Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"So...a big day tomorrow?" 

Steve didn't even look up from the piano. He just chuckled, a mixture of bitterness and amusement that felt like his personal brand, a perfect description of his life. His fingers were moving over the keyboard in natural, long practiced strokes. "Something like that," he said. 

He noticed movement on his left as Robin walked to the window to check the blinds, to make sure they shielded her and Steve from any and all unwanted attention. It didn't matter that the only thing they could see were the woods around Robin's house, Hawkins had eyes everywhere. 

The shuffling finally quieted down and Robin leaned against Steve, patting his shoulder. “You’ve really improved, you know that? You’re much better than me now and the hesitation you had a few months back is gone. I don’t give praise just to anyone, but you should be proud.” She smelled like dried flowers and Steve huffed out a quiet laugh. Just like Robin to act all tough and snarky but keep all the flowers that she was given. 

“Thanks. Both for the praise and for letting me practice here.” He didn’t add that she might as well have been the only person who appreciated his playing, who saw how much it meant to him. Or that if his father knew about his hobby, he would have likely smashed the piano to pieces and if one or two of Steve’s fingers happened to be collateral damage, well. Two birds, one stone. Instead, he slowly brought his hands into a coda and stilled his fingers, let the melody linger in the air for a bit longer. “When is she coming?” 

Robin checked her watch and blushed, much to Steve’s amusement. “Any minute now.” 

“You know you have nothing to be nervous about, right?” When she didn’t respond, he nudged her side one, two times, until she wheezed and grasped his fingers. “It’s not like you have that stupid rehearsal tomorrow. And everything will go,” he straightened his spine, adopting a stern expression very closely mimicking his father, “according to plan.” 

That finally made her chuckle and relax. “And what a plan that is! Fantastic, magnificent, absolutely riveting. And if someone decides to show up, we’ll just finalize the details-”

The bell rang, stopping her rambling. Robin immediately left his side, almost skipping to the door as Steve watched her go, trying to fix her hair in the process. He felt a strange pull in his heart – he used to think it was jealousy, but now he finally knew what it was. Yearning. Seeing someone so happy, he thought that maybe one day, when all of this was over, maybe then- 

Once they made sure the door was closed, Nancy greeted Robin with a gentle peck on her lips and made her way into the living room. “Hi Steve. Ready for the big day?”

He laughed as he squeezed her hand in greeting. “Oh, absolutely, can’t wait to practice my vows and see both our families rejoice at the flawless performance.” 

“Steve, your sarcasm is showing.” Nancy rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed the pretend annoyance. 

“Oh, is it? Sorry.” His fingers returned to the keyboard, grazing their surface. “Anyway, you have a date to get to and I’m here to provide an alibi. Would you like your favorite song to kick it off?” 

Before Nancy could react, Robin gently moved her to the side, hands on her hips, and cleared her throat. “Sure she wants to hear it. We’ve been practicing all day for the big occasion, right, Steve?” 

His laughter gradually faded into the well-known melody and he found himself humming along as Robin sang with all the dramatics and passion she could muster:

“Thanks a bunch, but I'm not getting married

Go have lunch, 'cause I'm not getting married

You've been grand, but I'm not getting married

Don't just stand there, I'm not getting married

And don't tell Steve, but I'm not getting married today”

Steve Harrington’s life was perfect, that’s what everyone kept telling him. 

“The perfect house”, they scoffed as they peered into his living room, seeing the pristine carpets, the shiny displays of expensive statuettes and framed pictures. Of course they could afford housekeeping, of course they had the prettiest flowers in their garden – planted, watered and maintained in their perfection by a professional gardener. Of course Mrs. Harrington never allowed something as mundane and dirty as soil near her manicured nails. That was the image she always portrayed, even if Steve sometimes saw her watching the wilting leaves, her fingers reaching out before quickly withdrawing. 

“The perfect family”, they muttered as they observed the Harringtons leaving for yet another gala, another social function that allowed them to flaunt their wealth, their status. They were a sight to behold - the patriarch of the family, Richard Harrington, with his strong jaw, cold eyes and practiced booming laughter, the trophy wife, Mary Harrington, and her platinum blonde hair in stiff locks, the most expensive jewelry and effortless mingling...and Steve. The golden child Steve Harrington, the boy who could easily charm and entertain, who enchanted many a heart in his high school years, the boy who excelled in sports and took a junior position in his father’s company after school to prove himself. Perfectly respectful, maybe a bit of a rascal, but boys will be boys, they said. 

“The perfect future,” they spat out as they saw Steve leaving his father’s office, that charming smile plastered on his face, oblivious to the worries of common people. How far would anyone else have gotten if they had private sessions with Mr. Harrington, explaining to them the intricacies of their business? But of course, the boy did not understand how lucky he was. 

It was only natural for the perfect boy, now a young man, to have a perfect wife too. And how fortunate that there was a family in their town of Hawkins that fit the Harrington criteria – a traditional father, on the right side of the political spectrum, of course, a housewife with just enough brains to be charming but not too much, not to overshadow her older husband, and three kids. Not all of them agreeable, but the eldest daughter was bright, polite and while she was a bit too ambitious for Mr. Harrington’s liking, time and family focus would fix that small problem. Mr. Harrington believed that all problems have solutions.

Steve tried to follow the plan. He and Nancy Wheeler went to school together and it only seemed right that they eventually started dating, a studious, presentable girl and a popular jock. They did it all, romantic dates, parties – but not too many, just enough to remain the golden couple, family dinners and grand plans for their future...that is, until they broke up. 

He should have seen it coming. Their relationship had been on the rocks ever since Nancy’s best friend Barb accidentally slipped and drowned in the Harrington family pool during one of those rare parties. He’d tried to be there for Nancy, begged her to tell him what she needed, but as time dragged on, it became obvious that she didn’t know what would ease her pain. She was only sure of one thing - it wasn’t him. 

It was fine. He was hurt, of course, he blamed himself, tried to fix whatever was wrong with him, but in the end accepted it – he had to, especially after he skipped the second period and saw Nancy in an empty classroom, lips glued to a girl from his class, the passion so foreign, so different from what she used to be like with him. And even though the pain would not go away, not fully, the fear in their eyes and the instant jolt that made them leave each other’s arms, it made him understand. He just smiled at them and mentioned an empty service bathroom that would perhaps be safer, more discreet. 

It should have ended there – Steve informing his parents of their break-up, losing his first love but gaining two friendships at once. It seemed like a good trade to him, better than he thought he’d have. Perhaps he would meet another girl one day, one his father would approve of. But when Richard Harrington scoffed and said, “as if love had anything to do with marriage”, something cold settled in Steve’s stomach, something that felt awfully a lot like helplessness. His father decided what was best for him, without knowing him at all, his life a mere extension of the Harrington legacy.

Months of pleading led nowhere, and so did the reasoning, bargaining...Richard Harrington wouldn’t budge, and neither would Ted Wheeler. It would have been better for Steve to just leave, to live his own life elsewhere, but...

But Nancy had a bright future ahead of her. She was his friend and so was Robin, the second half of his soul he’d never known he was missing. So he made a deal with himself – he would stall the wedding, give just enough to keep his father if not happy, then at least satisfied, and give Nancy enough time to reach her eighteenth birthday, secretly apply for college just like Robin and Nancy and once the two of them were out, safe and out of reach of the town’s and their families’ bigotry, he would focus on himself. Maybe he’d move out and disappear, just like the girls would. Or he’d stay and face the music, living his own life to spite his father. 

So many options, so little time. 

And that was why he was currently at the piano, his fingers moving as if they had a mind of their own, producing melodies that felt like a second nature to him, the familiarity equally sweet and painful. He might have lost the first love of his life, but along with gaining a soulmate and a good friend, he’d rediscovered a part of himself that he’d never thought he would ever dare to pursue again – music. 

Ever since he was little, Steve Harrington had loved music. From the sweet tone of his mother’s voice singing him to sleep, before the golden cage trapped her in more ways than one, to gentle strumming of a guitar coming from the woods, from kids that were free in ways he would never taste. He would never be allowed to join a band, that would tarnish his reputation, that and the one of his family, to stoop to being a public spectacle. But they couldn’t always control him, the school became his refuge, long before his King Steve persona, long before he had his heart broken and glued back together. The school was a place where he could be himself, at least partially. It was ironic, the building most of his peers hated became his favorite spot in Hawkins. And in it, the musical room and a piano, a beautiful instrument that could weave any emotion into its tones – melancholy, love, hope. It was complex and perfect for Steve. 

Complex and perfect…just like the boy that he saw once at the piano. It didn’t matter that he was wearing shabby clothes, too big for him, that he had the ugliest buzzcut and that there was a fresh bruise on his cheek. His long and gangly limbs hardly fit on the small stool in front of the piano, but Steve couldn’t stop watching his hands, the thin and elegant fingers flowing like water. 

Steve was mesmerized. He could have watched the boy play for hours, letting those beautiful tones wash over him, but then he took a breath that was too deep, too audible, and the boy froze. He looked like a cornered animal, jumping up to distance himself from the piano and knocking his knee on the bottom of the keyboard. And Steve hated himself for laughing, he really did, but he just couldn’t understand how someone could go from graceful to a ragdoll in two seconds. As the boy mumbled nervous apologies and rubbed his knee, Steve stopped him, taking a step closer. 

“That was amazing. Really, really amazing. Could you maybe…could you show me? The basics? If you’re not busy.”

It turned out that the boy’s name was Eddie and he wasn’t busy. He had plenty of time between classes, during lunch breaks. Being the new kid, and the new poor kid from a trailer park on top of that…that was a death sentence in Hawkins Middle School. Steve had learned so much about Eddie during their lessons – he would bring lunch, they’d eat together in the music room and chat about anything and everything. Eddie told him how he moved in with his uncle Wayne, how he felt like a burden and never wanted him to worry so he hid his bruises and kept out of harm’s way, kept out of sight and out of trouble. He said his mom used to play a lot in bars when he was a kid, took him with her and taught him whenever she could, staying longer and longer, maybe hoping that if they stayed past midnight, his father would get bored, turn to whatever alcohol he managed to steal that day and fall asleep before they got back. It didn’t always work, but hey, it was worth a shot. And Eddie was a fast learner. 

But he never had to hide from Wayne Munson, and if Steve had ever experienced warmth and understanding, it was from Eddie and his uncle. The man seemed older than he was, balding and with a face full of lines, but underneath his gruff exterior was a heart of pure gold. They didn’t have much, but he always prepared a quick meal for Steve and Eddie when they got too immersed in their dreams of music and grand future. He’d pat Steve’s shoulder and ask him about school, likes and dislikes, his goals and dreams. 

Eddie had dreams too, he wanted to leave Hawkins and play music, no matter what the form would be. Not just covers too, but his own songs and tunes. He loved all kinds of instruments, guitar mostly, but piano had always been his comfort. He played snippets of melodies for Steve that he composed himself, often asking for Steve’s feedback, for his ideas. Whenever that happened, Steve’s chest tightened and he felt a strange fluttering. Someone found him worthy of voicing his opinion. Someone asked him for it. For the first time in his life, he felt heard. He felt like a separate person from his family, from the expectations. In that music room, it wasn’t Steve Harrington, the golden boy of the Harrington family, and Eddie Munson, the neglected trailer trash. They were just Steve and Eddie, bonded over their love for music. 

And then it ended, like all good things do. 

Steve stopped seeing Eddie and they passed each other in the hallways of the Hawkins High, all blatant disregard and secret glances. Eddie’s hair had grown long and wild, he became loud and unapologetic. His instrument of choice became a guitar, he got held back once while Steve graduated. They moved in separate circles now, Steve focusing on sports and finding a part-time job, Eddie fully embracing being the town freak and then eventually leaving, disappearing one day without saying a word to anyone. Just as it was always meant to be, that’s what his father used to say.

Steve Harrington never meant to play the piano again, although he longed for the ghost of the touch of smooth and cool keys. He’d locked those desires deep inside himself, burying them along with the one friendship that used to mean everything. 

Until Robin Buckley came along. 

Robin’s family was fond of music and proud of it. Their collection of instruments was enormous and the first time Steve visited her house with Nancy under the pretense of meeting his girlfriend’s best friend, well, new best friend after Barb Holland had met her tragic fate, Steve found himself staring at their piano. The shard in his heart came loose and the longing was too much, too dangerous. 

But Robin saw him, of course she did. She gently took his hand and led him to the piano, sitting him down. “Are you going to be okay by yourself here?” she asked him and maybe the gentle press of his fingers against the keys was enough of an answer. The window next to the piano led into the woods outside of Hawkins and so did Robin’s, with plaid curtains that protected their exploring kisses and touches from unwanted eyes, all that while Steve found himself again in the familiar melodies and the memory of a boy with a buzzcut. 

In the quiet of the Buckley house, all three of them could be themselves.

Illustration by Moon Arin

Chapter Text

According to plan. That’s what it was supposed to be, that’s how the wedding rehearsal was supposed to go. Steve’s father kept reminding him as his mother smoothed down his perfectly ironed suit. That’s what Nancy’s mother said to her in a small voice when her father rambled on and on about how beneficial the union with the Harringtons would be. 

Everyone had a plan, and that included Nancy and Steve. Theirs was just a little different. In one word: stalling. Or, if they wanted to go with Robin’s description of it, “weaponized incompetence”. Reputation was everything to the two families and where words would not sway them, a threat of absolute public humiliation had much better chances. Nancy’s early graduation was only a few weeks away and every second counted. 

When reverend Brenner said to take three steps, Steve made his steps so long he bumped into the altar. The long steps also helped Nancy to break off the high heel she had chipped before the rehearsal, so she was limping the whole way to the altar. 

When Nancy had to recite her vows, she panicked – Steve finds it difficult to keep a straight face at her attempted hyperventilation, after all, the only time Nancy had ever panicked was when Robin confessed her love and Nancy blurted out “thank you” – and jumbled them all together. “With this candle, I will burn your sorrows!” she proclaimed loudly and dropped the candle, setting her father’s trousers on fire. She barely managed to contain her smirk as Brenner had to put out the fire with their ceremonial wine, staining her father’s precious formal suit. 

Steve took initiative in the moment of chaos and blew out the candle, then quickly passed the lighter to Nancy. She reached for it, stretching her fingers…but it slipped right through and bumped into Mrs. Wheeler’s foot. Opening her mouth, Nancy was about to come up with an excuse, an explanation or anything, but her mother gently shook her head. Shushing her daughter, she promptly stepped on the lighter, effectively hiding it under her sole. Steve could just kiss her in that moment.

But in the end, it did not matter. The fire was put out, Mr. Wheeler dried the wine off with a full box or napkins and Steve’s mother revealed she failed to fully quit smoking and, as a result, had a lighter of her own. Brenner lit the candle again, walked the unlucky couple through their vows and sternly informed them that they have one day to learn the full verse properly. “You will speak these words in the house of God,” he said and Steve wondered if he might have been descended from Medusa herself because his stare alone was enough to freeze Steve in his tracks. “We will meet here tomorrow morning and you will know your vows.”

It was phrased like a fact. Maybe in Brenner’s world, it was one.

Nancy cleared her throat. “We will do our best, reverend. But, in the unlikely case of us not getting it just right-“

“I have full faith in your memory, child,” he interrupted her and smiled at her. It was fatherly, with the proper intonation and feeling, but it still sent shivers down Steve’s spine. “Such a case will not happen. This town has had its share of scandals and painful moments for several families. After poor Miss Cunningham’s disappearance, you wouldn’t want to disappoint everyone by having another wedding called off. Right?”

Steve and Nancy shook their heads, muttering “Of course, reverend.” It still wasn’t the end of the world, they just had to regroup, discuss their next steps with Robin.

But Brenner, ever the mind-reader, leaned down and laid his hand on Nancy’s shoulder. “Good. Now, Miss Wheeler, let’s practice a bit, shall we? Please stay here, I’ll make sure your vows are just...perfect.” Shifting his attention to Steve, he flashed him his tight-lipped smile. “As for you, Mr. Harrington...go learn your vows. On your own.”

All Steve could do was nod and try his best to keep down the bitter taste of despair rising into his throat. “Will do, sir.”

Illustration by Moon Arin

The woods were quiet when Steve entered them. He only noticed where he had headed after he passed the abandoned picnic table near Robin’s house, the planks chipped and covered with droplets of recent rain. He tended to avoid the woods these days, well, months – they were full of bittersweet memories and reminded him of everything he had to give up. Still, his legs had a mind of their own and honestly, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. The woods were secluded and, in early fall, mostly empty.  

He needed to clear his head, figure out what to do – and quickly, but Robin would have lessons for several hours and Nancy was being held hostage by Brenner and her parents, so it was up to him, the one person not known for planning or thinking, really. 

Maybe learning those vows properly would be the best course of action, pretending he is willing to go through with the wedding and then…what if he broke his leg? Would that be enough to postpone the wedding? Or would they have him limp down the church aisle in crutches just to get it over with?  

He decided to keep the broken limb idea as the last resort. Robin and Nancy would be against it, that he was sure of, but they were running out of options and stalling techniques. He originally thought breaking his arm would suffice, but that wouldn’t hinder the ceremony enough. Plus, as much as he loved Nancy and Robin, Steve loved the piano. He thought maybe he could afford to be selfish here, just once. He wouldn’t endanger the one thing that brought him joy. 

He sighed, looking up at the darkening trees. All that planning, pretense and lying for a stupid wedding no one even wanted.

The sun was lazily setting over the horizon and even though he knew that the sky and nature did not change according to his whims and moods, everything felt like an insult or a taunt. 

The branches catching on his clothes and hair? You won’t get away. You will always be under their influence, dancing to their tune. 

The setting sun? Running out of time here, Steve, you will have to marry your close friend and ruin her – and possibly your – life.  

The constant chirping and singing of birds? You can’t hide from other people’s judgements, Stevie-boy. There is no rest for the wicked and you must have been really wicked because what you love the most in the world can only be done in secret. And if you get found out? Let’s push some more activities on you because being involved in any and every sport isn’t enough. 

You aren’t enough. You are wrong. 

Steve wandered further and further into the forest, kicking at decayed wood and fallen leaves, his mood sour. “You want vows, I’ll give you some,” he muttered and grasped the wedding ring in his hand so tightly it made an imprint into his skin. 

He stomped on a rotten branch, snapping it in half. 

“With this hand, I will punch my father’s perfectly shaved face and get arrested, maybe that would postpone the stupid wedding for a day or two.” 

His foot slipped on a wet patch of moss and he stomped on it in retribution. 

“Your cup will never empty because if you ever marry into my family, alcoholism is the way to go, baby, and wine might not be enough to get through a single dinner with my parents. Do you like vodka? You will need vodka.” 

Steve’s suit got caught on a thorny bush and he swore, sending a bunch of nearby crows into a complaining match. He could relate. 

“With this candle, I will set fire to our marriage certificate and set you free, at least for two days or so before our parents bribe someone to re-issue it on a fireproof paper.” 

With that last word, he slipped on moss once again and barely kept his balance, only stopping against a stump of an old oak tree. He remembered spending careless summer afternoons there, in the small clearing with Eddie, laughing and humming tunes that his mind refused to forget. The same ones he still played whenever he could, gripping the memory tight and not letting it go. Eddie might have been gone, but his melodies would stay with Steve forever, no matter how dramatic that sounded. 

The old oak tree used to be a place of comfort for him and Steve really needed some comfort. Uncaring whether his suit trousers would survive the damp and overgrown seating, he slumped down and closed his eyes, sighing. It really felt like his life was over before it had even begun. 

He finally opened his palm to look at the ring, turning it in his fingers. It looked beautiful in the setting sun, gleaming and reflecting the dying rays of light. Such a small thing. Such a commitment. 

“With this ring, I wish someone like you could be mine,” whispered Steve and hung his head down. 

He would have been content sitting in the woods much longer, but several things happened that foiled his plan. 

First, the birds stopped singing and the woods became eerily quiet. 

Second, a strong gust of wind threw several fallen leaves into Steve’s face, obscuring his vision. 

And third – a hand grasped Steve’s ankle and started pulling. 

Steve yelped and tried to run, get away from that icy touch, but to no avail - the grasp of the hand, yep, definitely a hand, not a root or anything, remained firm, although he distantly noticed some of its joints cracking, as if they were finally getting some movement after a long period of stiffness. 

Steve’s escape attempt had him yanked back, spinning around and then everything was a whirl of thick tree crowns, growing shadows and cowing of crows – and then his back hit the forest floor and everything went dark. 

When he came to, he immediately wished he’d remained unconscious for just a little longer. 

The pressure on his ankle was gone, but only because the hand found something better to do – digging. It started removing the soil around and soon another one joined it, loosening the soil…and disappearing into the ground. 

A thud from underneath. The crows were louder and louder, flapping their wings and flying in circles over the clearing. 

Another thud, roots cracking, the whole tree stump shaking and tilting back. 

And with the third one, the roots snapped and those hands were back, but with them a head of messy dark hair, pale skin covered in mud, sticks and patches of moss, faded black clothes and a chain belt, a belt that Steve knew too well. This had to be his punishment, had to be a sign because he still tried to pretend that he hadn’t known from the second the hand with all those gaudy thick rings touched him. But now he couldn’t pretend any longer, the long fingers pushed back all those dirtied strands of hair and Steve was met with the deep eyes that haunted his dreams, the best and the worst ones. Only in those dreams, the eyes had a spark of life in them, the desire to exist, to fight. 

These had none of it. Not anymore. 

Illustration by Moon Arin

Crawling away from the horrifying sight, Steve hissed as something in his ankle snapped and with unexpected clarity, he remembered his recent half-baked plan to break his own leg. Finally, something going according to plan, he thought and felt a hysterical urge to laugh. 

The figure spat out a mouthful of dirt and wiped his face, throwing his head back and letting out a dry, humorless laugh. His skin had a blue tint but, and Steve couldn’t comprehend why his brain would focus on that instead of the actual reanimated corpse in front of him, was surprisingly well-preserved. It would have been a wonderful Halloween costume and maybe others would have doubted, assumed that it was a prank, a sick joke, but Steve saw the undisturbed moss, the unnatural movements of those once graceful limbs, and knew . 

What used to be Eddie leaned down, the clearing quiet except for cracking of joints and Steve’s uneven breathing, and picked up something shiny, something that caught the last ray of the setting sun before shadows enveloped both of them, the living and the dead. It was a ring – the ring that Steve must have dropped right before he fainted. 

“Eddie-“ Steve whispered and he wanted to say so much, ask even more, but the words wouldn’t leave his lips. He just stared at his former friend and the ring he was holding. 

Eddie’s pale lips spread into a wide smile, his dirtied teeth on display. “That for me, Harrington?” he asked, cocking his head to the side as he examined the ring. His voice was rough, parched. “I expected at least one date first, perhaps a dinner. And the ring isn’t really my style. But,” he sighed with theatricality so familiar that it made Steve’s heart ache, “beggars can’t be choosers. Well then, King Steven the first of the House of Harrington…” 

Steve couldn’t speak. He just watched as Eddie slipped the wedding band onto his ring finger. 

“I do.”

Chapter Text

“Why Harrington…you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Steve opened his mouth, then promptly closed it. There wasn't much to say that he could articulate and he didn't feel like screaming that fine evening, well, maybe a little, but Eddie could take offense at that. Don't offend the walking dead guy sounded like a reasonable precaution.

"I don't know, man," he croaked out, mustering a barely visible smile. "You seem too corporeal for a ghost."

Eddie snorted and for a second, Steve could forget what he was dealing with, because Eddie's smile was still mischievous and his laugh, while still a bit rough, sounded genuine. "Shit. True, let me fix that. You look like you've seen a zombie, Harrington."

Shaking his head, Steve attempted to properly sit up and cursed when he put pressure on his ankle. He'd forgotten about the stupid injury for a moment, more focused on the whole Eddie buried in the woods and suddenly walking around and conversing thing, but now the pain came back with vengeance. "That zombie's going to have a free dinner ticket here," he choked out as he inspected his foot. Didn't seem broken, but sprained...sure.

He wiggled around on the ground, trying to find a way to get back on his feet without feeling like something was breaking his foot in half, but failing miserably. And yeah, maybe he should have been a bit more concerned about the literal undead guy standing over him, but Steve was a practical man. Focus on what you can resolve and all that. 

Looking up at Eddie who was watching him with a slight amused smirk, he pointed at himself. “Well? Are you going to eat me or what?” 

Another snort. “Don’t flatter yourself, Harrington. No matter what my reputation is, I wouldn’t eat just anyone, even if they’re sprawled in front of me like the most pathetic stingray in existence.” 

“Stingray?!” Steve spat out. 

Eddie nodded and descended into a squat to look Steve in the eye, well, as much as they could see in the growing darkness and through Eddie’s messy mane. “Yup. Flat and flapping around. Very much a stingray. Now, Harrington…even with your limited belief in the supernatural, I assume you do know that raising the dead comes with a cost.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

The dark eyes blinked in confusion. “Excuse me, what?” 

Steve shuffled closer to Eddie, which might not have been the greatest idea he’d ever had, but now that the adrenaline was slowly fading, the gravity of his situation felt like his stomach was full of cold lead. “I didn’t know,” he blurted out and it sounded more like a sob, something too painful to keep in. “I thought, I hoped that you’d be safe, that you finally got your wish and made it out of this shitty town. I imagined that…that one day I’d hear your music on the radio and I’d know for sure, but even until then, I just…I thought you were safe!” 

His breathing was coming out shorter and shorter and wasn’t that just hilarious, getting all choked up in front of a reanimated corpse of his former friend. But running wasn’t an option anyway, and Steve just found it so unfair because Eddie used to be so full of life and promise, so bright and now...

“Hey, Steve. It’s fine, really.” Eddie’s voice was gentler now, more familiar, and that made Steve’s breathing even more shaky. “Shit, you’re…look, you really need to breathe, like, now? Please?” 

Steve was inhaling the cool evening air as much as he could, but his lungs wouldn’t cooperate, as if they refused to take what they needed. “…am…trying!” he wheezed out, but his lips were heavy and getting more difficult to move each second. 

He had never fainted twice in the same day. So maybe he’d experience something new. Apart from meeting a living corpse, of course. 

The said corpse was panicking, it seemed. His cold, dirt-covered hands were shaking Steve’s shoulders now. “Shit, look, Steve, I swear it’s not that lonely, I don’t need the company so just…inhale, exhale, all that good stuff, yeah? Don’t…just don’t suffocate. This grave ain’t big enough for the two of us and…hey, Steve?! Steve!”  

But Steve didn’t hear him anymore. With a whooshing in his ears that sounded very much like a descending murder of crows, Steve’s world disappeared into darkness. 

When he came to, he was sitting in an eerily lit bar, well, more like half-laying on the floor. Someone had been kind enough to stuff an old pillow – mostly eaten through, but still comfortable - under his head. What a fucked-up dream that was. Whatever it was that he’d drunk, it was way stronger than his usual choices. I’m never drinking again. 

And then he saw a familiar figure crouched on the ground, talking to…someone? He couldn’t really see, he was still dizzy, but he tried to clear his head and listen. 

“…a magnificent idea, Eddie. He gets all freaked out because you’re dead and what do you do to help him? You bring him here. To the land of the dead.” 

The voice was annoyed and something felt off about it, but he seemed reasonable enough. Whatever the invisible man was talking about, it sounded right. Except the whole land of the dead thing. And…

And Eddie being dead. 

Steve shot up from the ground and regretted it immediately. His ankle exploded with pain and he had to grasp the edges of the bar to keep himself upright. 

“Hey, young man, careful! That looks like a nasty sprain!” someone said. Steve was so relieved to hear another human being, he turned towards the voice and-

“…Bob?” 

Bob Newby smiled at him, kind and lopsided as always. Except his t-shirt was black with crusted blood, and he was pale, almost blue. “Hi, Steve. Long time no see.” Snapping his fingers – oh god, his left hand was mostly bone , he reached for a bar stool. “Sit down. You can’t put any weight on that foot, at least not until I find a bandage and compress that. It would be better if you could lie down, but at least for now don’t move too much.” 

 Steve just stared at him, familiar and foreign at the same time. He´d known Bob Newby for ages, they weren’t close, but Bob would always recommend the best technology for when Steve had still been brave enough to record his music. “You’ll love this one, Steve, the sound is really much more vibrant,” he’d wink at younger Steve Harrington. “Oh, and I got you a shoe box. An empty one, to carry it home. I know it’s not exactly…well. We all have hobbies we don’t want to share with the world, right? Or at least with some people in it.”

Bob Newby had been dead for two years now. He was mauled by a huge feral dog that attacked young Will Byers and his friends near the junkyard. Bob died a hero – with strength no one knew he possessed, he fought off the aggressive animal long enough for the kids to escape and lock themselves inside an old bus. They saw things they never should have seen, but at least they were alive. 

Steve didn’t want to think about that day, about how he decided to go on a long walk to clear his head after the breakup with Nancy. About how he came across Bob’s body and six terrified voices screaming at him, muffled behind the glass window. About how he heard snarling, how he grabbed the closest thing next to him – a metal rod, rusted but still firm – and smashed the dog’s face in. 

He didn’t want to think about the look on Bob’s bloodied face, pained but also triumphant. 

Bob was unfazed by his silence. He had procured a bandage from somewhere and started wrapping Steve’s ankle with practiced ease. “I hear you avenged me and saved the kids,” he smiled. “I believe thanks are in order.” 

Steve huffed in bitter laughter. “I don’t know about that. If I hadn’t spent half an hour moping about my ex-girlfriend, things would have been different.” 

There it was, that kind smile again. “Sure would be. Maybe I’d still be alive. Or maybe it would have also got you. Then Will and the other children. Ifs don’t help anyone, Steve, so how about you accept the praise where it’s due? You can’t save everyone.” 

It should have been comforting, but the words felt like a punch in the gut. “It feels like I can’t save anyone,” he admitted, more to himself than to Bob. “You from that beast, Nancy from her own family and from myself, Eddie…”

Eddie. 

Bob playfully slapped his calf when he twitched, attempting to stand up. “Patience, Steve. You don’t want to join us here yet, I hope? So let me finish treating your ankle, then you can hop off. But to calm you down...Eddie? Your breathing friend is up.” 

Steve didn’t dare to turn around, but the panicked shuffling and muffled “oh shit. Shitshitshit. Shit shit” gave him a good idea of Eddie’s mental state, and he had to admit, it felt good to be the calm one for once. 

He more felt than saw Eddie saunter towards the old bar, leaning against it behind Bob with a feigned nonchalance. Steve knew that posture all too well, from all the times Eddie was a bundle of nerves but putting on a brave front. “Howdy,” he saluted Steve. He’d tried to clean up a little – rubbing his eyes until he created muddy panda circles around them, removing some smaller roots from his hair and dusting off his vest. It was equally endearing and hilarious. 

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but someone else made it before him. 

“Smooth.” 

The bored voice came from behind Steve. Or more precisely...from behind the bar? 

Eddie snorted and tapped the wooden surface. “If you want to talk, have some manners and get up here.” 

“Easy to say for you, these bones are old. Hey Benny, help me up?” 

Benny – god, another name that rang in Steve’s head with painful familiarity – turned around and shot an amused look towards the ground. “One day I’ll make you your own tiny staircase,” he grumbled and reached down, lifting up…

…a cat. 

No, not any cat. It was black, with greying fur around its muzzle, mostly black except for a greyish triangle near its tail. Steve knew this cat well – he scratched it, no, him, for hours when visiting Mrs. Henderson and her son, Dustin. 

Dart turned his head to the side and nodded. “Hi.” 

Steve raised his hand and slowly waved. “…hi.” He half-expected someone to say something because…the cat talked. He was pretty sure cats weren’t supposed to do that. “Uh…” 

The cat rolled his eyes, if that was even possible. “Yeah, cats talk and the dead have their own bar, keep up. You also fainted when Eddie performed that wonderfully dramatic number for you.” He shot a nasty look at the dead man. 

Eddie couldn’t blush, no blood and all, but he had the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry,” he whispered towards Steve’s injured ankle. 

“You should be,” said Dart and Eddie grew an inch shorter under his critical gaze. “You had it all planned out, you had the perfect opportunity and what do you do? You go all zombie-like on him. If I were Steve, I wouldn’t even want to hear your proposal.” 

“Proposal?” Steve blinked in confusion between Dart and Eddie. “I’m pretty sure it was me who accidentally proposed? I guess…yeah, Eddie still has the ring, so why should he have to propose?” 

Bob finally finished wrapping Steve’s ankle in bandages, and rose to his feet. “You’re engaged? Congratulations!” 

Eddie fiddled with the ring on his finger. “Uh, yeah. So that part? Totally unplanned. Actually, also illegal for us to get married. Twice illegal. Man and man, dead and not dead. So…I’m actually keeping the ring for bargaining purposes.” 

Dart stabbed him with another deadly stare. “You. Could. Have. Just. ASKED.” 

“Doing that now.” For someone who always claimed to be as direct as humanly possible, Eddie was stalling, wringing his hands and staring anywhere else but Steve. “So…uh. Harrington. Not that you especially liked me when I was alive and I guess I didn’t become more charming by dying. But still. You brought me back, you’re just a little bit responsible for disturbing my resting place. And I will forgive you for that and calmly crawl back into the ground…for a price.” 

“A price?” Maybe Steve was as obtuse as they said, but what good would money do in the world of dead? 

Eddie nodded, still hypnotizing Steve’s gradually swelling ankle. “Yep. Price. Not…monetary, no. But I need your help with something. So, a small service from you and I will go back where I belong. And you get this back.” Wiggling his finger, the ring caught light from the dim bar lightbulbs. “So, do we have a deal?” 

Steve nodded almost instantly. “Sure.” 

“And before you say no, you should kn- wait, what?” Eddie’s eyes snapped back to Steve’s face. “Uh. Sorry, there might still be some dirt in my ears.”

Dart laid his paw onto Eddie’s shoulder and slowly extended his claws. “Take the yes and shut up, Eddie.” 

The dark eyes narrowed at the claws. “You know I don’t feel pain.” 

“So you won’t mind me meowling on your grave every single night for the rest of your undead existence?” 

Eddie flinched. “You monster.” 

But Dart just rolled his eyes and returned back to Steve, gesturing at him to provide ear scratches. Flabbergasted, Steve obliged. 

“So, Steve,” started Dart and turned his head towards Steve’s hand, “the thing is…to the left, yes, thank you…this isn’t the proper afterlife, as you might have guessed. This place would be way too crowded. So everyone here waits for something. Has something tying them to the mortal world.” 

Did Steve imagine it or was Eddie slowly shrinking under Dart’s critical gaze? 

“Some just wait for their loved ones to reunite. Some just need to process their anger or grief before they go. And some, Edward Theodore Munson, are utterly, hopelessly and stupidly stubborn!” he growled. 

Yep, Eddie was definitely shrinking. 

“See, some of our residents just have grandiose plans and they decide that they’re not going anywhere before they fulfill them. And no, they don’t let anyone local help them. Because it needs to be perrrfect.” Another growl, another twitch in Eddie’s eyebrow. “So here we are, facing a dilemma. Either Eddie stays here forever and drives everyone crazy with his bitching and moaning, or you step in, save the day and save his soul and everyone’s who has to deal with his constant complaints.” 

Steve didn’t dare to stop the movement of his fingers, not until asked. “I already agreed,” he reminded both of them. “What do I have to do?” 

Dart blinked at Eddie. “Cat got your tongue? Wasn’t me, I swear.” 

The dead man snorted. “Right. So, you might remember…I used to play. The piano, I mean. And the guitar and more, but this is about the piano. And I also put together some music of my own.”

Steve’s heart clenched painfully at the memory. “As if I could ever forget.” As if I could forget the days when I felt like myself for once. 

“Yeah, so…I can’t leave before making sure the music outlasts me. I don’t…I used to have this big, big plan. Record what I have and send it to one guy from Indy I knew. He saw potential in me, told me so right before…yeah.” 

“But…” Steve’s tongue was heavy all of a sudden, stumbling over his words. “You were brilliant. Why don’t you record it yourself? Or is it about technology and stuff? I can get you that.” 

Eddie chuckled with all the bitterness in the world. “Yeah, well. Let’s just say that I tried. I tried and tried and fucking tried, but you know what? It’s just not right.” 

“What do you mean? Because I remember you playing and…I don’t think anyone could get it done better than you, Eddie.” 

Dart sighed and pawed at Steve’s hand, finally letting him rest. “What he means is that dead bodies aren’t really known for their flexibility and dexterity, Steve,” he clarified. “Eddie has been practicing for months now, day and night in this bar. Everyone thinks it’s perfect.” 

“Everyone but him,” Steve guessed and Dart gave him an understanding look. One more memory, Eddie playing in the music room in their school until his fingers hurt, wanting to try just one more time, just that one section that isn’t right, not yet . 

Eddie waved his hand, scoffing. “Oh give me a break. If I’m to follow the light, go to the other side or whatever you want to call it, I want it to be worth it. I’ve been making compromises my whole life, but not here, not fucking now. So here’s the deal, Stevie-boy. We go upstairs – your world, that is – and you’ll practice my music like your life-“ 

“Or marriage,” added Dart mischievously, eyeing the ring on Eddie’s finger. 

“Yes, like they depend on it. And then we’ll record it, send it to my contact with Wayne’s contact info, ownership or whatever.” His voice dropped lower at the mention of his uncle’s name. “And then I’ll give you your precious ring back and move on. Being buried and waiting for the worms to come isn’t my idea of a good time anyway. Deal?” 

Without thinking, Steve offered Eddie his hand. “Deal.” Then his brow furrowed, a telltale sign there was something nagging in his brain. “Well, maybe one request from me. If someone sees us in the world above. Can you…like, can you pretend that we’re actually engaged for that time? Or at least that you’re a vengeful zombie who’s crazy opposed to the idea of marriage and is willing to curse me or drag me to the underworld if I marry anyone within the next few days?” 

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “What?” 

Chapter Text

“Are you sure he just didn’t run away? He seemed pretty jittery to me.” 

Mary Harrington knew better than to let her practiced smile falter. Instead, she took a gentle step towards Ted Wheeler, laying a comforting hand on his forearm. All acceptable, not friendly but polite. Everything about her was made to impress. 

“I am sure he just got caught up in practicing the vows, Ted. He’s been incredibly nervous the whole day, you know how young people are.” 

As if Ted Wheeler had ever experienced anything remotely close to youth. 

As if Mary herself had. 

Ted huffed in disagreement, but the tension in his shoulders loosened. “Of course. It’s not acceptable, but perhaps understandable. Still, he needs to realize that this isn’t just about him. The whole wedding has been paid for, the guests invited...it’s not just about the money, mind you. It would be a scandal that none of us want or can afford.” 

His stern voice had alerted Karen, his wife. Mary sometimes wondered if Karen felt the same way that she did, molded into perfection by her older husband, but she never dared to ask. She’d definitely seen Karen happy, proud and content, mainly around her three children. But whenever her eyes traveled towards Ted, the laugh lines on her face faded, her eyes staring past him. 

“I wouldn’t worry, Ted. Steve has been nothing but reliable, and he cares for Nancy so much. He will be back.” Karen almost believed that perfectly modulated voice.

Ted Wheeler solemnly nodded. “I hope so. For all our sakes. I’d never forgive him if he pulled a Cunningham on us.” 

For a split second, Karen’s mask cracked. Out of nowhere, a thin line of disgust made its way to her face. And Mary understood her oh so well, she wanted to slap Wheeler. As if he could understand what it felt like, being trapped before your life could even begin. If Chrissy really had run away, Mary understood and even envied the young woman.

But there was always that if.

Gently shaking her head, Mary decided not to think of all the failed search parties, missing person posters and Jason Carver’s steely determination. This wasn’t the time or the place.

“I assure you, he will be back.”

With a polite nod, she turned on her heel and went to look for her husband.

Chapter Text

“So. You and Wheeler.” 

It was a poor conversation starter, but Steve didn’t blame Eddie. He was still half-convinced he was dreaming anyway, so why not indulge his dead friend with some gossip? 

“Eh…yeah. Kinda. I mean, it’s not fully like that?” Technically, if he told Eddie about Nancy’s real partner, it wouldn’t be a breach of trust, would it? He promised not to tell a living soul and Eddie wasn’t technically living. Then again, they were climbing an insane number of stairs towards a menacing tower of some sorts, Steve’s ankle was throbbing in pain and his breath was coming shorter and shorter. “So…we were together. Stuff happened and we’re friends. Great friends. But we really don’t…you know. Don’t want to get married, but our families think it just needs a push. Or a hundred. So now…we’re just stalling. Until her birthday. Which is why I need you to pretend you’re...I don’t know. An evil spirit I accidentally raised and that you’ll let me go in a few days if I fulfill our contract or something. Or that we’re married in the afterlife or something in the meantime so they can’t just drag me and Nancy to the altar. Or both. Preferably both.” 

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. His hair was still dark and full of dirt, but at least he managed to wipe his face. Mostly. “Wow. So you’re doing a decent thing then? Saving the damsel from an unwanted marriage? You’re the knight in shining armor on a majestic horse?” There was a prick of irony in his words. 

“Sure.” Arguing would have been the right thing to do, but breathing was also nice. Jesus Christ, how many stairs were there? Why was the stupid tower the only way to the world of the living anyway? “Speaking of horses, you happen to see mine somewhere? Because I could use it for this trip to the bloody undead Everest-“

“Dramatic.” With a huff, he helped Steve up another crooked and dangerously high stair. “We do have a few dead horses around, you know. Friendly enough. But no saddles and trust me, those bones are not comfortable. So we’re stuck walking.” 

There was nothing left to do but to grit his teeth, force his way through the pain, and pray that they would arrive at their destination soon. “Why the tower though?” Steve asked. “Is there some kind of a magical door? I mean, why is it…”

“In such a stupid place?” Eddie was laughing now and the memory of their lost friendship hurt almost as much as the injured ankle. “I asked the same thing when I arrived here. The thing is, Steve, it’s not a door, it’s a person. And unfortunately for us, that person is a massive recluse with tendencies to see conspiracies left and right. So persuading him to meet us anywhere else is not happening.” Wheezing, he pulled Steve to the last stair and wiped his brow. No sweat, just dirt, but old habits probably died hard. “We’re here.” 

And what a “here” it was. The tower was even taller from up close, looming over them like a massive, crooked shadow. The windows glowed sickly green and there was a sweet scent in the air, so unfitting for the eerie atmosphere. 

Before Steve could ask what the scent was, Eddie already knocked on the massive door and, to Steve’s astonishment, didn’t even wait for a response before moving back and looking defiantly upwards. 

Steve hobbled on to join him. “What are you staring at? A window or…oh.” 

“Told you,” shrugged Eddie and pointed at a massive eyeball that turned to examine the visitors. “Lots of security measures, trust issues, all of that. And before you ask, no, I have no idea how he got the eyeball.” 

Before Steve could react, a screeching sound assaulted his eardrums. “And I wouldn’t tell you even if you asked, Munson.” The words came from an army-grade loudspeaker mounted onto the tower in a blatant disregard for its impressive age. 

As Steve fought the ringing in his ears, the massive eyeball moved to inspect him closer and well, that was disturbing. He’d never seen an iris this vividly blue in his life, and, as he realized when the eye twitched to focus on his face, Steve found himself hoping he would never meet its original owner. 

The eye retreated to its position above the door and turned back to Eddie. It seemed weirdly judgmental, for a single eyeball.  “That one’s alive. He’s not supposed to be here. Are you out of your mind?!” 

Eddie shook his head and gestured towards Steve’s bandaged ankle. “Wasn’t intentional, I swear on my guitar, Murray. Actually, I very much agree with you, Steve here isn’t supposed to be with us yet, but stuff happened and now I really, really need to get him back upstairs. And maybe join him for a brief trip to get some fresh air.” He poked the eye in a misguided attempt to playfully nudge it. “What do you say, oh wise one?” 

The loudspeaker roared again, and Steve started wishing he’d packed his earplugs. His migraines had been better recently, not too many and almost bearable, but the high-pitched sound threatened to disturb the status quo. “Very sad. Consider me touched. But I have important things to do, books to sort. Can’t you bother someone else?” 

“I’d love to, a wonderful idea! Now if you can just point me to the other creepy tower with all the magical tomes in the underworld, I’ll be on my way. And I have full faith in you not just blowing me off so I don’t have to bring my sweetheart, you remember Murray, the electric guitar you hate so much, so I don’t have to bring her over and serenade you every day at max volume until your skull cracks-“ 

Steve snickered into his palm. He was injured, hungry, tired beyond belief and engaged to a dead man while his real fiancée faced all the bigotry of American small towns, but he was also having the time of his life. He’d missed Eddie’s confidence, that wide, almost manic smile as he leaned towards the creepy eyeball, challenging it. 

“Smartass.” Although the sound was far from ideal, Steve could hear the resignation in Murray’s voice. “Stay there. I’ll come to the door.” 

With that, the loudspeaker finally returned to being blissfully quiet.  

Eddie stayed still for a moment, making sure the eye could no longer see him, and then broke into a victory dance. “Hell yeah. Persuasion, baby.” 

His enthusiasm was as radiant as ever. Steve laughed and started clapping when Eddie finished his twirling in a theatrical bow. “Fantastic work.” 

“Oh, you have no idea,” grinned Eddie and leaned against the door, tapping his fingers on the heavy wood. “Getting Murray to open that door is a heroic feat, if I do say so myself.” 

“So what’s his story? Did he just drop dead one day and find a perfectly good uninhabited tower here?” 

“Errr…no.” Eddie’s hand twitched and he reached to the back of his head, smoothing the hair over the old wound. “The thing with him is – I don’t blame him for being so paranoid. The way you die, it...it’s not easy to get over it, for any of us. And Murray, he was crazy reclusive for most of his life. Then he got into conspiracy theories. He’d jump at every scrap of information he could find, obsessing over it for days. When he was convinced he got it right, he'd go to the Hawkins police.” 

A frown furrowed Steve’s forehead. “Let me guess. They never took him seriously.” Just like when you disappeared , he thought with a pang of bitterness. 

Eddie nodded. “Bingo. But Murray knew he was right. Or…thought he was. And his biggest revelation was that there was a secret Russian base under the old mall. Starcourt.”

“The one that burned down?” Steve was just a kid during the time of the Starcourt tragedy, but he remembered the smell of smoke, the sirens, missing posters that would gradually turn yellow and brittle. Hawkins never forgot and ever since the mall’s ruins got torn down, no one ever attempted to challenge the variety of specialized shops in the center of the town. The police rookie Jim Hopper emerged as a local hero from that tragedy, but apart from his name, Steve couldn’t remember anyone else connected with it. 

Another nod and a scowl this time. “Oh yeah. The thing is – when no one took him seriously, Murray decided to take things into his own hands. You won’t believe this, but the base was real – and Murray snuck in between crates masked as an ice cream delivery. He managed to bluff his way into the base – he speaks Russian, the crazy bastard – and somehow made it to the core of the operations or whatever you want to call it. Unfortunately, that’s where his luck ran out. The head scientist caught him taking a picture as a proof and confronted him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. To make things even better, the guards in that base thought the scientist was the one who let Murray in, and they shot them both, no questions asked.” Eddie spread his arms for the grand finale. “And so Murray made it here with a bunch of bullet holes in his chest and a new Russian acquaintance who couldn’t speak a word of English and refused to…you know. Not talk. He’s also here. And don’t tell Murray, but I think they’ve become friends. Kind of.” 

“…okay. That’s…” Steve was closing and opening his mouth, searching for words. But apart from what the fuck , he couldn’t think of any. 

“A lot?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s messed up in so many ways. But that still doesn’t explain the tower.” 

As Eddie took a deep breath to continue the story of Murray’s life and death, the heavy door swung open and revealed a balding skeleton. Steve never thought there could even be a balding skeleton, but this one stubbornly held onto his remaining hair and beard, or more precisely, what was left of them. It probably wasn’t a good idea to bring it up. Or the fact that he still wore glasses, even though he had no ears to hang them on. 

“Aren’t you a nosy one, Stevie,” he said and stabbed both visitors with a suspicious look. 

It might have been menacing to Steve, but Eddie just laughed and took a step forward, patting Murray’s shoulder…blade. Or another bone in that area. “Really, Murray? Of all the people in the world and beyond, would you be the one blaming others for their curiosity? I know you, you’re no hypocrite.”

Their host just shook his head and ushered them both in. “If you know me that well, you can tell the damn story yourself. I’ll have to get the elevator running since your friend here can hardly walk. My office is on the top floor.” 

“Oh god. Thank you,” breathed out Steve. He wondered how long his leg would take to heal. Normally he’d be up and running in a few days, but he wasn’t able to give his injury any rest at all. 

Murray disregarded his words of thanks, examining the rusty mechanism of a heavy metal platform resting on the first stair. There was a crank handle attached to the handrail and he started slowly moving it, swearing in at least three languages at the resistance it was giving. 

“So. The tower,” said Eddie, or rather shouted over the sounds of Murray’s insults and the rusty handle creaking. “There actually was a real...well. An assigned keeper of this tower, even before Murray and Alexei arrived here. He’d refused to move on and safeguarded all this knowledge.”

Murray kicked the stubborn handle. “Hoarded, more like. The old fart refused to share.” 

Eddie snickered. “Right. Unfortunately for him, this afterlife works in conditions. If you want to make double sure you move or don’t move on, you set a condition for yourself, as in - I’m not going until I see my wife again. When she dies and arrives here, you...leave. Not sure where, but you continue your journey. Our former lore keeper was very, very old. He set a condition that he thought would never happen.” 

Steve was so immersed in the story that he failed to notice that Murray’s efforts started paying off. “What was it?”

“I’ll move on when a man walks on the moon,” wheezed Murray and finally turned the crank enough for the platform to start moving towards them. Or at least that’s what Steve assumed from the screeching sounds from the top of the staircase. 

“...but that was years ago?” 

Murray nodded and leaned against the ancient wall, tapping his fingers as if he could speed up the machinery. “Right. But no one told him. He was useful to have around, they used to say. I, on the other hand, believe that a man should have all the information. It was unfair that he was kept in the dark.”

“And having a free library full of spells, curses and incantations didn’t hurt either,” muttered Eddie. 

Murray graciously decided to ignore him in favor of the platform that finally stopped with a deafening screech in front of them. “You make it sound so easy. You should have seen it when we took over, it was...” The torn muscle next to his eye twitched. 

“A mess?” offered Steve. 

“A paper tower of Babel more like.” Ushering Steve in with more care than he’d expected of the dead researcher, Murray gestured at Eddie to follow. “Imagine all the spells, curses, incantations, chants, everything magical ever invented, in all languages, fonts, with tons of spelling mistakes and pictograms that you’ve never seen in your life. All of that and no notes on which spell is in which language. And of course, you need to verify if it works before you catalog it.” 

Eddie leaned against the rusty railing and crossed his arms. “Wait. That half-dead, fully monstrous bat thing that got caught in Benny’s window? That was yours?” 

“Might have been.” 

“And the walking candle screeching Latin prayers?” 

“That too, but that one was a success.” There was a hint of pride in Murray’s voice, as if anyone should aspire to whatever that experiment was. “I assure you, we have everything under control. Compared to before, I mean. Now, I suggest you close your mouths if you value your tongues intact, just one more turn of that stupid crank, and...”

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH.

“Up we go!” yelled Murray over the sounds that no machine ever should have made. 

The “up” was indeed very high up. The platform was moving fairly slowly, but since the tower was so narrow, Steve’s head had started spinning by the time they arrived to their destination. Around halfway up, he’d started wondering if things would be better if he was already dead, but one look at Eddie’s firmly pressed together lips and an even firmer grasp on the rusty railing told him that no, this was an universal experience. Only Murray seemed unaffected, hopping off the platform with an annoying vigor. “Well, come on then. We don’t have all day.” 

“I sure hope they have a bucket up here,” muttered Eddie and took a wobbly step down. 

Steve could only swallow hard and will his afternoon snack to stay where it was. He clung to Eddie’s shaky frame as he joined the two dead men in a...wow. 

The room was massive. Either the tower was so tall the perspective made the top seem so small, or it must have been magically made bigger. Because there were just so. Many. Books. Piles and columns of them were lying all over the room, a massive oak desk included. And on the tallest pile of papers was a massive raven, eyeing the three of them with a menacing expression. 

“That’s Alexei,” waved Murray towards his feathered assistant. “Alexei, this is Eddie and Steve.” 

Steve watched in amazement how Alexei’s dark wings spread and he swooped down, finding a comfortable spot on Murray’s shoulder. “Uh. Hi, Alexei. I thought...” Steve’s eyes sought Eddie’s for answers. 

The other man just shook his head. “Don’t ask me. The last I’ve heard, Alexei was human.” 

“Oh, he was.” Murray was trying very hard to appear unbothered by the sudden weight on his shoulder, but the slowness of his movements and the unsuccessful attempt at balancing his hips gave it away. “Until last...uh. May, I think. We were cataloging a fascinating transformative spell. It worked fantastically.” 

Against his better judgment, Steve took a step forward and examined Alexei more closely. His feathers were beautiful and dark, save for a ruffled spot on his chest. It bore a disturbing resemblance to the wound on Eddie’s head. “Can’t you turn him back?” he asked. 

“Oh, we can,” shrugged Murray,or at leat attempted to. Alexei’s weight didn’t allow much movement in his shoulder. “We just chose not to. His intelligence is intact. And his wings are wonderfully useful in navigating this...chaos.” 

“Good. Good with high shelves,” croaked out Alexei. “Murray. Chto eto byl za shum?” 

“Etot duratskiy lift.” Noticing Steve and Eddie’s confused expressions, Murray gestured towards the raven. “What? Do you think the scientists in the Soviet Union learn English? Easier for us to learn Russian. Still, he’s made a lot of progress and he understands almost everything, so be careful what you say. Now, what was it that you wanted?” 

Suddenly, Eddie didn’t seem so confident. “Uh, yeah. I’d like to send Steve here back upstairs because...you know. He belongs there. And I will accompany him because I...” he trailed off, his eyes focusing on a random pile of old parchments. “I think I’ll be able to move on afterwards.” 

That caught Murray’s attention. With a pained huff, he settled Alexei onto the desk, and shook his head. “Are you sure? Because you know how that works. There’s no I think , if you think this is it, we have to do it the proper way. You’ll say the words, go upstairs, do what you need to do and...that’s it.” 

Eddie nodded, still avoiding everyone’s gaze. “Yeah, I know. It’s not what I thought it’d be, but...you know. I don’t want to go back down there, waiting for god knows what. So I’ll take that chance.” 

“Wait wait wait.” Steve grasped Eddie’s shoulder, shaking him hard enough to force his eyes back to him. “What do you mean? Care to enlighten me?” 

“None of your actual business, Harrington,” he snapped and moved to the side, out of Steve’s reach. 

“It kind of is. He’s helping you do it, after all.” Murray started rummaging through his desk, trying and tossing away a bunch of dried out ball pens. “Those conditions Eddie mentioned before? Just saying it isn’t enough, you sign a contract if you want it to be binding. Even if what you end up doing doesn’t fill that emptiness, you are obliged to go. And it seems that Eddie’s ready.” 

“Is he now?” 

Several things happened at once. Murray dropped a fistful of pens and pencils, Steve turned around so quickly he lost his balance and had to lean against the desk, Eddie forgot to be mad at Steve and reached out to stabilize him...

And Alexei calmly tilted his head, nodding at the new arrival. “Bob.” 

“Hi, long time no see.” He waved his hand, the healthy looking one, if that can be said about a corpse. “The door was open, so I let myself in.” 

Murray shot him a nasty look. “It wasn’t open.” 

Bob’s smile was unflinching and innocent. “It wasn’t locked properly enough. Now, I’ve come to volunteer to speed up the spell sorting, there’s little to do around here otherwise and I’m bored out of my mind. I offer several languages, a knack for puzzle solving and...” he reached into his shoulder bag, “a bribe for the master of the house.” 

In his hand was a jar of cherries. 

Murray’s expression was not amused. “You’re joking.” 

“Only partially.” With one more rummage through his bag, Bob produced a bottle of vodka. “Better?” 

The researcher’s face split into a wide grin. “Absolutely. You’re hired, but I’m watching you.” The bottle disappeared behind his desk so fast it seemed like a magic trick.  Now...to our lovebirds here. Are you ready to sign, Eddie?”

“Sure fucking am,” he muttered, taking a step forward. “My terms are: I record my music and send it to my contact, Craig in Indianapolis, with potential royalties, rights, whatever...to Wayne. When it reaches him, I can go. Good enough?”

Murray nodded, scribbling down the conditions. “Good. Sign here and then we can proceed with the teleportation spell. Alexei, can you please fetch-” 

“Cherry,” the raven croaked and pecked at Murray’s shoulder. 

This apparently wasn’t a new conversation for them. Murray didn’t seem surprised, only mildly annoyed. He rubbed his eyes and gestured towards the massive bookcase. “Get the damn book, will you? And then you’ll get your cherry.” 

Alexei shook his head, the black feathers shining in the lamplight. “No cherry, no deal.” 

“See what I have to work with?! Extortion, that’s what this is.” Despite his grumbling and complaints, Murray quickly opened the jar of cherries and tossed one towards Alexei. He immediately gobbled it down and blinked at his annoyed undead friend. 

Stretching his wings, he prepared for a takeoff. “Good cherry. What shelf?” he asked Murray. 

With a bony finger stabbed in the massive list on his desk, he pointed towards his left, way too high for anyone without a ladder to reach. “Section 21, shelf G, dark green, contained mold stains. Plane traversal and the issue of materialization .” 

Alexei croaked in response. With a strong flap of his wings, he rose from the desk and scattered around several parchments. Before Murray could gather all of them and finish his string of curses, the raven was back, the book in his talons. “Not right. Shelf F,” he pointed his beak accusingly at the offending bookcase. 

Murray scratched out a part of his long list. “Noted. OK, so...short term revival spells, transportation between planes of existence, portals...” 

“Are there long term revival spells too?” asked Steve. He went for an uninterested tone, but his heart was beating like crazy. Maybe this library could save Eddie where he’d failed. He could see Wayne again, could conquer the world with his music. Maybe with the right book, the right spell, he could-

“Sure are,” snickered Murray, still buried nose deep in the book. “Plenty of them, a bunch per every culture. The thing is - they’re either risky as hell, bringing back zombies, skeletons and all that, not the local ones but nasty, soulless creatures. Or they require some really ugly sacrifices. No one here would even dare to ask for such a spell, believe me. It’s the one good rule that’s worth keeping, try to move on, not back. Even though I see where you’re coming from,” he added, not unkindly. 

Steve’s chest felt heavy with desperation. He wasn’t the sharpest one, sure, but still...what good was all that knowledge when it couldn’t even save one single person? 

He only realized he said it out loud when Alexei landed next to him and nudged his shoulder with his beak, which was equally comforting and weird. “Not fair. But trying to make it fair...er.” 

Murray only shrugged his shoulders. “What he said. As much as we’d love to unleash every single curse here no matter the consequences, we have a certain responsibility. Now, if Eddie’s done signing...let me send you up. We’ll come collect you when the contract is fulfilled. You should take your friend with you, just in case something goes wrong.” 

Steve frowned at him, confused. “But…I’m going already?” 

Bob laughed and poked Eddie’s shoulder. “The other friend. You really suck at introductions, Eddie.” 

“He was sleeping,” grumbled Eddie, but he opened his jacket and gently removed something small and fluffy from his chest pocket. Something that looked…like a bat. 

The bat squeaked at Eddie and it sounded delightfully annoyed. It nuzzled into Eddie’s palm and Steve could just imagine the tiny creature slapping a ringing alarm clock, forcing it to let it sleep for five more minutes. 

Eddie extended his hand towards Steve. “This is Ozzy. He understands everything, he’s probably smarter than both of us. But he doesn’t like to speak.”

Steve shook his head in disbelief. Reanimated dead, short trips between planes or whatever that was, a corpse town underneath Hawkins, talking cats, Russian scientists turned into ravens, and now a smart bat who refuses to speak? Sure. 

Murray gleefully ignored Steve’s inner turmoil. “That should do it. Ready?” 

Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Eddie simply nodded. “Yeah. Let’s breathe some fresh air.”

With a snap of Murray’s fingers and an incantation in a long dead language, they were gone.

When the dust settled on the creaky floor of the tower, Bob smiled at the disgruntled researcher and stretched his hands. “Now, shall we start? We have a lot to do.” 

Chapter Text

“When I find that dingus, I’m going to strangle him! What was he thinking, leaving like that?!” 

Robin’s voice was way more hoarse than normal. She’d been pacing in Nancy’s room for nearly an hour, still hoping for a phone call, a message, anything from Steve that would indicate that the plan is still on. But hours were passing by, it had already gone dark and apart from the muffled voices of Nancy’s parents downstairs, the Wheeler household was eerily quiet. 

For the first time in her life, Nancy wished her brother Mike would knock on her door and ask her for something, anything to chase away the growing tension. 

“I don’t…I can’t blame him if he did,” said Nancy. She was staring down at her hands, willing the fingertips to stop trembling. This wasn’t like her. “He’d stuck around long enough. He basically put his life on hold for me. So…”

She pressed her lips together. She wouldn’t feel bitter, she promised herself. But every single minute felt like a betrayal, so close to the goal. 

Only it wasn’t Steve’s fault. It was the whole town, the expectations, her parents. 

“Oh no. Nonono. Nancy.” Robin was kneeling in front of her now, intertwining their fingers and squeezing her hand. “Please don’t think that way. Steve wouldn’t do that, I make fun of him a lot, like a lot lot. But he’s the most kind-hearted, dependable guy in the entire Hawkins. When he says something, he means it.”

Nancy squeezed the hand back. “That’s even worse,” she whispered. “Because I know you’re right. If he hasn’t given up on this whole…plan, then it means something’s happened to him. That terrifies me even more.” 

“Nancy…”

She looked into Robin’s eyes, firm and determined, everything Robin loved about her and more. “Think, Robs. Where would he go? Where do we start looking? Because this isn’t just about the plan anymore, I can…run away alone and you can join me when you can, I don’t mind waiting if you don’t.” 

Robin snorted. “Please. As if there’s a world where I mind. But, for the sake of your very bright future…we need to figure something out. I’d go to the woods, maybe? He told me he sometimes goes there to clear his head, think. Maybe that’s what he did?” She sounded hopeful, trying to convince both Nancy and herself. 

Nodding, Nancy wiped at her eyes. “Right. That sounds reasonable, let’s start there. I’m just…sorry. I’m okay with problems, just…not when I’m the one causing them to others.” 

“Oh love. No. No, you’re not.” Robin’s hands were on her face now, cradling it with care Nancy didn’t feel she deserved. “You never chose this. And even if we have to run away and live in sin somewhere, as reverend Brenner loves to say, it will be worth it. I love you too much to let you rot here. So keep that in your beautiful head, hm?” 

Nancy couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. It was more shaky than she’d have liked, but with Robin at her side, nothing seemed impossible. “God, what an awful mess. You’re right, less moping around, more searching for Steve.” 

Robin mirrored her smile. “Right. After all, being the calm and rational one doesn’t suit me. That’s you in this relationship.” 

But as Nancy got up to prepare for their search, she heard something that made blood freeze in her veins: the sound of the door being locked and her father’s hurried footsteps behind it.

Chapter Text

As soon as the spell faded and they could make out the moonlit forest around them, Eddie took a deep breath. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.” He sounded amazed, almost reverent.

Steve couldn’t say anything, even if he’d wanted to. He just watched Eddie’s large, dark eyes, and the way that the moon reflected in them, giving back some of the life they had lost. For a minute, the pale light had returned to Steve the boy he’d thought he’d never see again.

They just stood together in the forest clearing and stared at the night sky. 

“You know,” Steve whispered, “this reminds me of when we used to meet after school and talk about music. Especially that fall. Days were so short and it was crazy cold, but…I just remember being so excited.” 

Eddie shook his head, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Excited over learning new chords and music discussions? Careful, Harrington. That sounds awfully nerdy for such a popular guy.” 

“Would that really be so bad?” 

Another shake of the head. Steve found himself wondering if it was a new habit that Eddie picked up to shake free all the remaining dirt in his hair, or if he just happened to disagree with Steve all the time.

“As long as you don’t mind falling from grace.”

Well. That was old news. “That’s already happened and I don’t exactly miss it. Shows you haven’t been around for a while.”

The words left Steve’s lips before he could catch them and lock them away, somewhere deep that they belonged. But now they were out in the open, cruel and unfair, and the sharp intake of breath next to him, the breath that Eddie didn’t need, told Steve how royally he’d fucked up.

“Well, excuse me for being dead,” spat out Eddie. The spark of life brought back by the moonlight was gone, his eyes went were two dark wells of despair and anger. “Must have been really inconvenient, not having everyone in the town as an audience for your tragic downfall. But let’s be real here, Harrington. I didn’t need to be maggot food to be inconvenient to you.”

“Eddie, you- you were never-!”

But Eddie was already moving ahead, marching towards the distant lights of night time Hawkins. “I don’t care,” he uttered over his shoulder. “It doesn’t change anything. Let’s record the demo and stop pretending that we’re friends.” 

Steve wanted to say a million things, but not a single one found its way to the surface. Silence was easier. 

“Right. Let’s stop pretending.” 

He took a careful step forward and followed Eddie towards the land of the living. 

Like most plans created under pressure, the one Eddie and Steve came up with had a few holes. Or more than a few. The first ones made themselves known only a few minutes into their walk through the forest.

To put it simply, it was a difference in expectations.  

Steve’s breath was coming out in pained huffs as he tried to maintain Eddie’s merciless tempo, his injured ankle be damned. “We…need to stop by my parents’...house first. Get…the recording equipment. Get you ready. Then we either have to go to Robin…or break into the school.” 

Eddie just nodded. “Add finding me a guitar to the list. We’ll need that too, some equipment from Gareth’s. Acoustic will do.” Then he frowned and shot a nasty look in Steve’s direction. “Wait. Get me ready? Pray tell, Steve. What is that supposed to mean? Do you want to shoot promo pictures as well or something? Is Jonny Byers back in town with his camera?”

As bitchy as his tone was, Steve was too tired and in pain to argue. “You realize we’re going to have to meet people, right? At least Robin and maybe some people on the street?”

“As if I care what they think,” Eddie scoffed. “What, scared you’ll be seen with a freak, Harrington?” 

Through the heaviness of his whole body, Steve felt a spark of anger. All the pressure, the expectations, Eddie’s deserved but still painful jabs, the sharp stabbing in his ankle, it was more than enough to make a man snap. “Oh sure Munson, because everything is about my fucking reputation. Feel free to think it’s about me wanting to protect my nonexistent status as the Hawkins head douchebag and not about, I don’t know, this stupid town seeing a guy who went missing, suddenly back, covered in dried mud and blood. They’ll think you’ve had an accident and haul you off to a hospital. Can’t wait to hear how you’ll explain not having a pulse. Or, in their Christian love and acceptance, they’ll just go all pitchforks and torches on you. And worst of all - they could tell Wayne. Do you know how long he’s been looking for you? Someone told him you moved to Chicago and he…he left everything behind. What if someone calls him? What then?”

“Oh.” 

Steve shot a quick look at his former friend. Eddie’s mouth was open in a sudden realization, his eyes wide and concerned. He even had the decency to look ashamed as he pulled a strand of dirt-covered hair in front of his face. He was impossible to stay mad at  and Steve hated himself for it. 

“So…” he said slowly, finally catching up with Eddie, “Can you please spare me the embarrassment of having to break you out of a hospital, or persuading Wayne that you were a mass hallucination?” 

The dead man’s face broke out in a smile. “Anything for you and your reputation, Steve.”  

The rest of their walk to the Harrington house was less charged. They both had plenty on their mind and, at least in Steve’s case, plenty they wanted to say but didn’t find the time, the place or most importantly, the courage. Opening old wounds wasn’t a good idea if you always had to be on your toes. 

They took the side roads, hid behind trees, dumpsters, cars, anything that could conceal them. Once they had to dive into a small alley, crouching behind cardboard boxes to avoid being seen by a very drunk Tommy Hagan, Steve’s high school friend. A year ago, Steve would have been with him, drinking to his successes and his sorrows. 

When Tommy passed them with an off-tune song on his lips, Steve turned to Eddie. “He’s gone now. Let’s go before he decides this is the ideal place to take a piss.” 

But Eddie wasn’t listening to him. He was staring over Steve’s shoulder with lips tightly pressed together. 

Steve turned around and saw what caught Eddie’s attention - a missing person poster, carefully laminated and glued over a bunch of faded advertisements and concert invites. The girl in it had a bright smile, innocent and charming. The name read: Chrissy Cunningham . 

He shifted to face the picture as well. He remembered Chrissy. She wasn’t in his class, but everyone in school knew her - she was the perfect girlfriend and a friend. Always ready to help, to offer a kind word. When she disappeared, people didn’t understand it. She never said anything bad, didn’t have any enemies. 

And now Eddie was studying her face with something that Steve couldn’t decipher. He reached out and touched the corner of the poster that was peeling off and pressed it back into place, securing it against the wall. 

“Did you know her?” 

Eddie nodded, still lost in thought. “Yeah. She was so kind. I met her when I pissed off the wrong group of jocks, you know. I don’t think they meant to hurt me, just…chase me away. Scare me off or something. But one of them didn’t get the memo and punched me straight in the face. It was small, but it bled a lot. The others ran away and I was just trying to stop the bleeding because I didn’t want to ruin my T-shirt.” 

Chuckling, Steve imagined the whole scene. Eddie, with his hand covered in blood, desperately willing the blood to flow anywhere else. “I can absolutely see that.” 

But Eddie didn’t return the smile. “She was walking past me with some of her cheerleader friends. They looked at me like I was a pile of vomit, but not her. She told them to go and got a bunch of things from her kit, for the bruises and stuff like that. Like I said…she was so kind. And terrified.” 

That wasn’t a word Steve would associate with Chrissy. “Terrified? Of you?” 

Eddie shook his head. “No. Of…stuff. A lot of different stuff. It’s not really mine to tell. But I hope she made it, no matter where she is.” 

After leaving his King Steve years behind, he’d tried desperately to avoid judging people and listening to rumors. But no matter how much he wanted to mind his own business, Hawkins had a mind of its own. Gossip would reach him wherever he went, and soon he learned what everyone was saying about his former friend - he’d made Chrissy Cunningham disappear.

Steve didn’t want to believe this. This was nothing like the Eddie he’d known, no matter what everyone said. But since there was an overlap between Chrissy and Eddie’s disappearances, both happening only weeks apart, it was difficult to stop the stories. Especially when Jason Carver, Chrissy’s mourning fiancé, was determined to prove that Eddie had been responsible for his personal tragedy. He’d claim Eddie killed Chrissy. Maybe sold her off to a cult somewhere. But since there was no body and no news, he kept re-printing Chrissy’s posters and praying to God to reunite them. 

Steve licked his lips, unsure how to broach the subject. “You…you haven’t seen her down there then? In…in the bar?” 

Eddie shook his head and touched the poster one last time, his fingers following the line of Chrissy’s jaw. “Nah. If something happened to her, it wasn’t around here. But I don’t think she’d end up with us. She had better things to do.” 

Steve couldn’t say anything to that. He wasn’t sure if Eddie’s words calmed him down, but at least now he knew that the same person who killed Eddie didn’t get to Chrissy. Whoever it was.

He would ask the question eventually. But it felt strangely invasive to say: “hey, do you know who killed you?” 

Tugging on Eddie’s jacket sleeve, the two finally left the alley and continued walking.

When they saw a light in the Harrington family home, they realized the plan yet had another iceberg-size hole. 

“What the hell. They were supposed to be at a charity dinner!” 

Steve couldn’t believe it. He spent years begging them to stay home, to at least pretend they were a family, to show him that he was more important than all those bald middle-aged men in business suits, at least on his birthday, on Christmas, on the day his team won an important game. Just once. 

He finally got his wish and he hated it. 

“This is bad. This is really bad,” he whispered towards Eddie. “If they see me, they’ll drag me back to pastor Brenner. And they’ll force me to marry Nancy and everything will go to hell. Not to mention…they can’t see you, Eddie. They can’t. But Robin doesn’t have anything we can use, shit!” 

Eddie was chewing his lip, thinking. In the end, he decided to do the unfathomable - he opened his jacket and gently tapped Ozzy’s furry head. “Hey, Ozz? Could you help us and check if Steve’s room is empty up there?” 

The answer was definitely a swear word in bat language, but the small creature still spread his wings and fluttered up to Steve’s window. Moments later, there was an affirmative squeak. 

Steve turned to Eddie with a confused frown. “What did he say?” 

Eddie scratched his head. “That it’s empty and that he’s taking a nap on your pillow for the extra work.” 

“That’s fair.” 

“He also said your wallpaper is ugly.” 

Ouch . “Also fair.”

Eddie scanned the house and its surroundings, and finally he smiled. “Hey, Harrington, think you can climb with that ankle? I spy with my corpse eye a maintenance ladder nearby.” 

Steve’s eyes traveled to the maintenance shed in the garden, then to his window. “That should work”, he nodded. “Just a sec, I’ll bring-”

“You’re not bringing anything anywhere, your sprained majesty.” Before Steve could protest, Eddie was already jogging towards the ladder, raising it above his head. “Cool, huh? This would have killed me a year ago. Not having to rely on oxygen rocks.”

He seemed so proud of himself, Steve couldn’t say a single thing he wanted. Something like: if you were still alive, I would have carried it for you. Anything you’d need.

But that wouldn’t have helped anyone. So instead, he just grinned at Eddie and whispered, “Superpowers! Dustin would give you a cool superhero name in seconds. Corpse-man or something, but less lame.”

Eddie froze with the ladder above his head. “You know Dustin Henderson? I mean, I know you know him with all that happened in that junkyard, Bob told me. But you almost sound like you actually spend time with that nerdy twerp.” The last words sounded affectionate, even nostalgic.

Despite the stressful situation, Steve started laughing. As if “spend time” could even hope to cover it. Ever since he’d rescued the kids, Dustin became something like a younger brother to him. 

He used to ask Steve why he no longer talked to Eddie, and Steve couldn’t give him a clear answer. Those were one of the few times he and Dustin fought.

“That twerp, as you call him, is one of the funniest and smartest people I know. Absolute lack of self-preservation though. I spend most of my free time making sure he doesn’t blow himself up with his experiments. Or get lost in the woods on purpose because he wants to test out his new radio.” He motioned at Eddie to set up the ladder against his room’s window. “How do you know Henderson?” 

“You’d call it nerdy stuff,” shrugged Eddie and balanced the ladder, inching it forward so it wouldn’t make any noise. “His friend group needed a shepherd to take their hobbies to the next level. I offered my services.” 

Steve stared at him. 

Eddie stared back.

But out of the two of them, only Steve was comfortable with silence. It only took a minute for Eddie to break it. 

“Ugh, okay! I was the Dungeon Master for their Dungeons and Dragons campaign, okay? Now, before you ask what it is and before I delve into an hour-long monologue on the intricacies of storytelling with active participants and we get discovered by your parents, can you please get your majestic ass on that ladder and upwards towards your lonesome tower, oh Sir Harrington the Temporarily Sprained Ankle Owner?!” 

Steve had to stifle a chuckle with his palm. “I almost forgot how weird you are. I missed that.”

Before Eddie had a chance to ask what the fuck was that supposed to mean, Steve was already halfway up the ladder, not making a sound apart from the creaking of old wood. Eddie might have wondered for a moment about why Steve was so good at keeping quiet when his foot must have been killing him, but then he decided to drop it. He had ladders to climb, songs to record and final thresholds to pass.  

Steve’s room was…

It just was. A room. Of a human being, probably. 

Eddie didn’t say any of that aloud, but his face betrayed him, as it tended to do. Steve followed his gaze around the room, from the generic poster of a car, over the sport trophies neatly organized on a shelf, to the wallpaper that once again…was a wallpaper, and there was nothing else he could say about it. Wayne taught him to either say something nice or hold his tongue, especially when he wanted to avoid trouble. 

“Come on, spit it out,” sighed Steve when Eddie’s eyes decided to do a second round of staring and quiet judging. “You obviously want to say something.” 

“Uh, I…I mean…” Unable to form a coherent thought, Eddie settled on the wallpaper. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I thought you said you wanted it to be yellow?” 

Steve’s breath hitched in his throat, and he stared at Eddie with wide eyes. “You remember?” They were both whispering, the risk of getting caught was still too high, and maybe they had way more important things to do. But Steve selfishly wanted this, wanted to keep the memory alive for a few more minutes.

“Sure do.” Eddie sat himself down onto Steve’s perfectly made bed, leaving an imprint of dried soil. “We argued about the best shade of yellow for hours - still that eerie yellow that you’ll find in mysterious alien oozes, by the way - and you even brought me out to your garden to show me the flowers with the exact shade of yellow you liked.” 

“Daffodils, man.” Steve joined him on the bed and spoke more to the wallpaper than Eddie. “For someone with such a good memory, you should remember the flower name. Also, I’d much rather have flowers on my walls than some mysterious slime, thank you.” 

Eddie nudged his side. It was one of the few touches he gave willingly, apart from supporting Steve through his injury. “So why don’t you?” 

“Huh?”

He touched Steve’s side again with his elbow and quickly returned back. It was strange to see Eddie’s wild movements contained like that. “Why don’t you have pretty yellow flowers on your walls? Why do you have…uh…not so pretty squares? What happened?” 

Steve would have liked to laugh. As if there had been any actual mystery to why his room had a personality of a furniture catalog. “My dad happened. He knows how things should be, you know?” He glanced bitterly at his neatly arranged desk, the sharp letter opener his father had brought from yet another business trip that miraculously had to be extended over Steve’s birthday, the carefully chosen lamp, his uncomfortable chair (“ It was very expensive, Steve, but Mr. Daniels assured me it’s what every young man needs in his room.” ).  

He grimaced as he finished his sentence. “And his son would never want wallpaper that looks like flowers.” 

He felt shifting next to him as Eddie leaned forward. “You know you’re your own person, right? Not just his son?” 

Steve knew that. Rationally, he knew he was separate from his father, that he had things that were his own. He had Robin and Nancy, his ridiculously easy banter with Dustin. He used to like some sports too, before the never ending competitiveness and expectations of perfection left them feeling hollow, like yet another chore, another mask to wear. 

He once had Eddie and his music too. The two things he’d never get back, not really. 

“It’s not that easy,” he whispered. 

Eddie scoffed next to him. “Sure is. Just choose what you love. How hard is that?”

Ah. There it was. Steve’s stomach suddenly felt heavy and his heart beat like crazy, until all feeling gradually left his fingertips. He wished the numbness would spread further, into his head. “You told me the same thing once,” he said, keeping his eyes glued to his framed race car poster. “You said it as if it was the easiest thing. I believed it.” 

Another scoff, but this time with way more bitterness. And Steve knew exactly why. 

“You hardly did, Harrington,” said Eddie and his voice was harsh, cold. “Since that was the last time we spoke as friends.” 

And Steve remembered, always remembered with vividness that he hated, how he tried to follow his dreams. 

Steve, waiting for the right moment, right place, right everything. It was after another major success that his father only heard about when he returned to Hawkins, but he’d be happy, of course he would. Or at least satisfied. 

So Steve presented his trophy, yet another one, and then started explaining. Presenting the merits of his plan, as his father had taught him. 

He was nervous but excited. He could be more than his father ever thought he’d amount to. He’d be proud. 

“I love music, dad. I learned to play the piano and read musical sheets. I can play some really difficult pieces now. It’s something that feels…natural. I feel like I could be good at it, great even, if I could only show you-” 

“There’s nothing to show, Steven.”

And just like that, the light at the end of the tunnel was gone. 

He fought for his dream, argued, bargained, begged, anything to change his father’s mind. It felt like talking to a rock. And when he finally gave up, resigned to keeping his love for music secret, as he had until that point, that was when Richard Harrington dealt him the final blow. 

“This is all because of that good for nothing Munson. Do you think I haven’t heard rumors about the two of you sneaking around, disappearing for hours ? I’m honestly relieved it was just about music, Steven, but I can’t risk you being around his disruptive influence any longer. You can’t risk it, you and your future. You will stop meeting with that young man. Immediately.” 

Steve refused. Continued fighting, cursing his father, saying he’d just leave, that his father would have nothing to hold over his head. 

And he would have done that, god, he would, if…

His father’s face was stern. Steve had always thought that it was just difficulty expressing emotions due to Richard being a different generation from him, but this was the first time he saw cruelty in his eyes.

“My word is final, Steven. You will stop seeing Munson and continue according to the plan, or-”

The ultimatum. It hurt to even think about it. 

“You can’t be serious,” he said then. “You wouldn’t. You can’t!” 

The final nail in the coffin of Steve and Richard Harrington’s relationship came in the form of a simple sentence. “With the right connections, one can do anything, Steve.” 

He could have been bluffing. Steve could have called his bluff and left. But he didn’t and now it was too late to do anything about it. 

Without looking at Eddie, he scrambled back onto his feet and wobbled towards his closet. The recording equipment he had purchased over the years was well hidden, small enough to fit into several shoe boxes. It wouldn’t be a fancy record whatsoever, but if he and Eddie were careful enough and tested the distance and setup, they would be able to present Eddie’s vision well enough. Or at least he hoped so.

Thinking about their agreement was easier, much easier. He hissed in pain when he bumped his sprained ankle against the doorframe, but it didn’t deter him from trying to reach the box. 

“Steve…” 

Eddie sounded unusually tame. Even remorseful. 

Well, that wouldn’t do. Remorse was Steve’s domain.

“You’re right,” he said as he was frantically removing the carefully arranged pile of boring items, boring enough so no one would think to search behind them. “I’m a coward. I deserve to be told, and I have no excuse.”

“Steve, I didn’t mean-”

He didn’t bother to stop and turn around. “I should have talked to you before I made that decision, I know that, but it’s too fucking late to change anything. So I’ll do whatever you need me to do, anything for you to move on.”

Eddie’s voice sounded closer now. “Steve, wait a moment-!”

He finally tossed down the last obstacle, a bag full of clothes to be donated. “And now that we’ve established that, can you help me get the stuff we need?” 

Eddie was behind him, he could feel him standing close enough to imagine the warmth that would have radiated from a living person. But there was nothing, just a cold presence of something foreign yet familiar, and a distinct scent of forest soil. 

His personal evil spirit grabbed Steve’s shoulder. “Shit, be careful! If you hurt yourself any worse-”

But then the door to the room swung open. Steve fumbled in the dark, trying to pull himself and Eddie into the closet, but there were way too many things he’d pushed down from the top shelf, too little time, and then Mary Harrington turned on the light.

“Steven?” 

Yet another hole in their plan decided to reveal itself in the worst possible moment. 

Steve and Eddie had planned for the eventuality of being seen. They had the whole story prepared in many different versions, an evil spirit, a husband from beyond the grave, a marriage-averse zombie…but faced with the mundane perfection of Mary Harrington, it all seemed incredibly stupid. 

Steve took a step forward, trying to shield Eddie from her vision. “Mom. I thought you had a dinner planned with that charity?”

She shook her head and her golden curls bounced around, reflecting the light. “We didn’t go. Where were you, Steven?” She gasped when she noticed his dirty, torn clothes and the tiny scratches on his face from when he’d fainted on the forest floor. “Were you attacked? Should I call Chief Hopper?” 

“No, mom! Please don’t call anyone!” Steve gently held her shoulders to calm her down. When he looked into her large frightened eyes, the genuine concern no amount of self-control could cover, he thought for the first time he might not be the only one trapped in that household. 

Mary Harrington studied Steve’s face more closely, frowning at his words. “But…you’re hurt, Steven.” 

He kept holding her, maneuvering her with gentle touches away from Eddie. Either she hadn’t noticed him yet or she was more preoccupied with Steve’s current condition. “I just…I fell. I was practicing my vows in the woods because I wanted some peace and quiet. And…something happened. I can’t explain it in a way that would make any sense to you. Or in a way that would make you believe me. But mom…” 

Steve took a deep breath. This was it. “I can’t get married. I can’t. I will, eventually, I think maybe in a few weeks it should be okay. But not yet.” 

“And why is that, Steven?” 

Of course he had to show up. Richard Harrington in all his pompous glory entered his room, attracted by the noise. He was still wearing the suit from the wedding rehearsal. He looked at Steve with that slight smirk that made his son feel tiny despite being almost the same height. 

Steve shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “Dad. Look, I-” 

But Richard Harrington waved his hand to silence him. “Don’t. You disappear for hours. You make your mother worry for no reason. You destroy your wedding suit. And now you’re saying you can’t get married because of…what, exactly?” He glared at Steve through his glasses. “What could be important enough to ruin what we had been working for, Steven?” 

Steve wanted to answer, to explain himself. But how can you talk to someone who thinks they already have all the answers? Where would he even begin? Which version of the story should he stick to? His head was pounding like crazy from all the stress of that day. 

He took a deep breath to answer. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Harrington, sir? That important enough reason would be me.” 

Steve stared in horror as Eddie waved at his father and walked right up to him. The chain on his belt was jingling and when he smiled, his teeth were still dark with dirt. If Steve had looked inappropriate in the cleanliness of the Harrington family home, Eddie was its pure antithesis. 

Richard Harrington seemed to share his son’s assessment. “You?” he asked in disbelief. His tone of voice implied he’d just come across a massive spider that he’d smacked with a newspaper once, but the beast kept coming back. “Steven. What is this?” 

“I…uh…that’s Eddie?” Of course his father knew who this was, but he had no idea how to explain his presence. 

Eddie didn’t share Steve’s reservations. He grabbed Richard Harrington’s hand and shook it with a grip that was a tad too strong. The man winced in discomfort. “Pleasure to see you again, sir. Edward Munson at your service, or probably disservice since I’ve come back from the grave to enrich your son’s life. Did you know your Steve here is a talented necromancer? Here I am, lying in my grave, minding my own business, when suddenly BOOM! Your son unwisely practices his vows to the lovely Nancy just on top of my resting place. How inconsiderate, right?” he turned to Mrs. Harrington. 

Mary just stared and probably even forgot to blink. “...very?” 

“Right, that’s what I thought!” Eddie spread his arms and the Harringtons took an instinctive step back. “What a rude son you have, walking on top of resting places is a big no-no. But his vows sounded very sweet and genuine, soooo…” he wiggled his fingers, drawing their attention to the golden wedding band, “here I am, soon-to-be Munson-Harrington! I’d love to call you mom and dad, thank you for asking.”

Richard Harrington’s stare could kill. “We didn’t,” he hissed, eyes fixated on Eddie’s finger. 

“You didn’t have to!” Eddie’s snickering grew even louder when he grabbed Richard’s cheek and wiggled it. “Aw, you look so cute when you’re mad. I can hear what you’re thinking, and yes. This is going to be reeeeally difficult to explain to your friends and neighbors. Or the Wheelers, goodness gracious! What a scandal!” he gasped, milking the Harringtons’ shock to the maximum. “But maybe…maybe you won’t have to.” 

Mary, unlike her husband, couldn’t help stop staring into Eddie’s eyes. Steve could tell she already suspected something was very wrong. “How…how would that work?”

Eddie bent down and grinned directly into her face. “Glad you asked, mom. See, I might have a certain…interest in the world of the living. And if Stevie here complies and helps me finish my business here, I’m willing to release him back to you, unharmed and unwed. But I’ll need him for a bunch of days. A week, perhaps. He needs to remain faithful to me for a month, that means a wedding to another being, living or dead, is absolutely forbidden.” He sang the last part in a sickly falsetto as he wiggled his finger at Steve’s parents. “After that month? Poof! He’s back, as good as new, ready to marry Nancy and give you grandchildren and all that your boring lives need. Deal?”

Eddie stretched his dirtied hand towards Richard. Maybe this would work, Steve thought. Maybe his father would be too shocked to say anything. Maybe he could also see that something is very wrong with Eddie. 

But then Richard Harrinton slapped the offered hand away. “How dare you!” 

Just like that, the spell was broken. Eddie stepped back and scowled at the older man, clenching his fists. “Oh look,” he sneered. “It has some courage, who would have thought?” 

Richard turned to Steve who still stood behind Eddie, petrified. “What do you think this will accomplish, huh, Steven? Is this what you find funny? Or is it yet another attempt to ruin our reputation even further?” 

“No, dad, I-!” 

But his father stabbed his finger into Steve’s chest. “So what?! Did you think this…this ridiculous story paired with some poorly applied stage makeup would convince us to let you ruin your life? You know what I told you about this young man. You were directly told to stop meeting with him, or else. And now you spit in my face with your actions!” 

Steve wanted to defend himself, wanted to yell at his father, to explain all that happened, but he felt frozen. There was no hope to pull this off, what had he been thinking?! How could he even hope to help Eddie when he couldn’t even stand up to the man who controlled his life? He was so tired. 

Once again he opened his mouth, trying to get out an apology, an explanation, anything. And once again, he was interrupted.

“Oh. So it was you who made him act like I was invisible. That’s fucking rich.” 

“Eddie-!” 

Eddie’s words were low and laced with venom. His fake joviality and theatrics were gone now, and he cackled, throwing his head back in humorless laughter. “Of course you did. And of course you listened!” he spat out, glaring at Steve. “I should have known you’d never grow a fucking spine. Well, it doesn’t matter.” 

Richard Harrington snorted and gestured at Eddie. “At least we can agree on something. Now get out of my house before I call the police.” 

“Oh no. Nonono, Richie. I don’t think I will.” The dead man sat himself on Steve’s desk, legs crossed. “See, I really, and I can’t stress this enough, REALLY don’t give a fuck about the police. What are they going to do? Send me back to the grave?”

Richard’s face grew dangerously red. “You still insist on this insulting charade?! Anyone can see you’re completely fine. Only an idiot would believe you’re a walking corpse!”

Eddie’s grin betrayed that he had been waiting for a taunt like that. “Oh really?” he said in a sing-song voice. “Well then, Richie. I’ll make an idiot out of you just yet.” 

He reached for something on the desk and presented it to the three Harringtons, as if he’d been preparing an audience for a magic trick. Steve recognized the item immediately, it was the letter opener that Richard had gifted Steve. 

“What are you doing?!” Steve whispered, but it was too late.

Eddie plunged the blade into his chest, directly into his heart. 

Mary gasped and collapsed against the door. Richard’s face promptly abandoned the red color and went pasty white. “I…” he mumbled, his eyes searching for an explanation and not finding any, “...I see what you did, you…that’s a theater trick. That’s one of those foldable knives, it’s…it has to be-” 

Eddie hopped off the desk and approached Richard, reaching for his hand. “Oh no, Richie. No tricks here. But if you need more convincing…see for yourself.” He made Richard’s fingers grasp the blade and stab it even deeper. 

Richard Harrington yanked his hand away and the letter opener with it. It made a metallic noise as it collided with Steve’s bed frame. But Richard didn’t even notice, he was shaking uncontrollably and Steve knew exactly the thoughts that ran through his head.

His hands are as cold as ice. 

I know the letter opener. It isn’t fake. 

His eyes are empty. So empty.

Eddie smiled again, but it never reached his eyes. “Now, lady and gentlemen, please notice the wound on my chest. Gruesome, isn’t it? But there’s no blood. Why? Because…and I want you to remember this… corpses do not bleed .” 

If he wanted to add anything else, he didn’t get a chance. Richard Harrington dragged Mary away and slammed the door behind them. 

Moments later, he and Steve heard a running engine and a car hurriedly leaving the driveway.

And as Eddie kicked the letter opener deeper under the bed, he heard a dissatisfied meow from the window. Dart was staring daggers at him and so was Ozzy, who probably only pretended to stare because he was a bat, but his eyes were narrowed and directed at Eddie. 

“We really can’t let you go anywhere.”

Chapter Text

The hotel room was nice, but not comparable to the Harrington mansion. Then again, Mary Harrington was glad she’d managed to persuade her husband to get them a hotel room in Hawkins, just in case something happened. Something even worse.

Mary was still shaking after three whiskeys. She didn’t want to drink them, but Richard had insisted. And for once, she didn’t even feel like arguing. What she saw in their house was…

Her poor son. Steven. She hated herself for not doing more, for not taking him with them, but he seemed so calm. So resigned to his fate. As she was leaving, he whispered: “It’s going to be fine, mom. Just give me some time.” 

She wanted to believe it. She had to. Where would she even go? To pastor Brenner? Would he even know how to perform an exorcism on a living corpse? Would he even believe her? 

The thought of pastor Brenner spurred her into action. She excused herself - not that Richard was paying attention, he had been scrubbing the hand the corpse had touched for half an hour or so - and made her way to the lobby, to the phone. 

“Karen?” she whispered into the phone. “I’m so sorry to bother you at this hour, but…”

She took a deep breath. Steve was safe, or so he’d said. But only if she played along. 

“I just wanted to let you know our heating stopped working out of nowhere. Silly, I know. But if you need to reach us, we had to temporarily move to the hotel on the main street. You know the one. Please call us here if you need anything.” 

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “Thank you. I…I don’t suppose you have found Steve yet?” 

Even in her terrified state, Mary could sense there was something wrong with Karen Wheeler. “No, I’m so sorry…I think he will be back soon, but…it is possible we will have to postpone the wedding for some time. Maybe a few weeks.” 

There was no acknowledgement, no suggestion of a new date. Just more silence and then: “I…I’m afraid the wedding is off, Mary. I’m so sorry, but…Ted insists.” 

Mary grasped the receiver so tightly her nails scraped on the old plastic. “How come? I thought everything was agreed!” 

“Mary…” 

Karen wasn’t the type to cry. But her voice sounded completely broken, even with the bad connection. 

“Did you know our children had an arrangement? That they…that they weren’t fully honest about their intentions?” 

Before Mary could answer that no, she had no idea, and what on earth was she talking about, Karen continued in fast whispers. 

“Because Ted found out. And he’s furious that his daughter is…is not who he thought she was. I tried to talk him out of it, to give her more time, but he refused. Said that our children need good influence, he won’t have them around anyone who might corrupt them. He sees only one remedy for the current…situation. An immediate wedding to someone who won’t allow Nancy to do what she has been doing.” 

Closing her eyes, Mary drew a shaky breath as she realized what Karen was hinting at. The Buckley girl. Steven probably knew. But she couldn’t acknowledge that, not out loud, not in Hawkins. Instead, she willed her voice to stop trembling. “How…how can you manage to find someone so fast? Wedding planning takes time.” 

“Everything is still ready. Ted said…he said we just need a groom. A respectable one. With proper values and right opinions.” Karen sighed into the receiver, deep and defeated. “Someone who also needs to move on, according to Ted.” 

Mary knew the name of the new groom even before Karen said it.

“It’s Jason Carver. And his parents have already accepted.” 

Chapter Text

When the screeching of car tires finally quieted down, Dart approached Eddie and shook his little head. “So much for inconspicuous. Do you even know what that word means? We might as well have used the local announcement system to scream out into the world that you’re back and you’re dead. How do you suppose you’ll record your music now, hm?” 

Eddie scratched his head, wincing. Steve knew he wasn’t feeling any pain, but he supposed touching the dried bloody wound couldn’t be comfortable. “I…I wasn’t thinking that much,” he admitted and Steve had to admire how quickly Dart’s icy stare got Eddie under control. He never thought it was possible. 

“Of course you weren’t,” said Dart and Ozzy nodded, supporting his older friend. “By the everlasting cat, Eddie. I understand wanting to give Richard Harrington a heart attack, I really do. But after that little stunt you pulled? We’ll have an exorcist knocking on the door before you even get to hold a guitar.”

“I don’t think that’s happening.” 

It wasn’t Eddie who said it. It was Steve. He had to lean against the closet door to relieve his injured ankle, but other than that? He felt strangely calm. Maybe it was the shock of Eddie really driving the point home that he was dead, maybe it was the confrontation with his father, the unexpected care in his mother’s eyes…or he’d just seen too much bullshit in less than a day to care. But most likely, it was a panic attack in the making.

“It won’t happen because it would ruin my father’s reputation,” he clarified. “He’ll never tell anyone such a ridiculous story, can you imagine it? My father, in his suit, with that perfect shave and expensive cologne. He’s never done anything interesting or rebellious in his life, he uses the stock market and insurance policies for his small talk. And now he’d come to the church where I messed up everything I could to the point of damaging our family name, and he’d say: my son is married to a corpse.” Steve started laughing and it might have had a tinge of hysteria, but he couldn’t help it. The thought was beautiful. 

Dart scratched his ear, lost in thought. “He might have a point,” he admitted. “It sounds stupid even to me. Maybe he’ll keep quiet.” 

“I don’t know about that,” said Eddie and crossed his arms. “He seemed pretty freaked out.” 

The cat slapped his foot with a paw. “Because you stabbed yourself, Eddie. And then made him stab you too. Where are your manners?” 

“You stabbed yourself.” That immediately stopped Steve’s laughter. He’d known Eddie was dead before Richard Harrington ever entered the door, but still. Seeing it proven so nonchalantly, it hurt in so many ways. “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

Eddie shot him a nasty look. “Do I look like someone you can order around, Harrington?” 

But Steve shook his head. Leaving behind the safe support of the closet door, he carefully walked towards Eddie and grabbed him by the shoulders. The smell of soil and rotten roots was almost overwhelming. “You should not have done that, Eddie,” he repeated, and there was something in his tone that wiped anger off Eddie’s face. “You…you matter, you idiot! Why would you hurt yourself just to prove a point, huh? To someone like him ?!”

Eddie gently laid his hand over Steve’s. “Steve, it’s fine.” 

“No, it’s not!” Apparently, the anger had not disappeared. It had just moved on to Steve. His fingers were grasping Eddie’s shoulders so tightly they were digging into his jacket. “You keep saying that. It’s fine, please breathe, I’m okay with being dead. It’s fine, I’m okay with stabbing myself to prove a point to your father who is the biggest douchebag on this planet. Just how little do you think of yourself? You matter! He doesn’t!” 

Eddie’s cold fingers were running circles over Steve’s, relaxing his hold. “It’s just a fact, Steve,” he whispered ruefully. “I’m dead. Can’t change that. As for the stabbing thing…I didn’t have it planned, sure, but it didn’t hurt. I swear. It just tickled.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve said, and it was so quiet it might not have been directed at Eddie. “You never should have done anything because of him. Not after…” 

But then Dart rubbed against Steve’s healthy leg, and the spell was broken. “He’s right, but there’s no use crying over spilled milk. We just need to hope Steve’s got a point and that Harrington’s pride won’t let him discuss this small…incident with anyone.” He narrowed his eyes and studied Eddie. “But we can’t afford another one. So I suggest we do what I heard you planning during your sneaky walk here - we should make Eddie blend in. Make Harrington sound crazy if he decides to tell someone.” 

The corpse in question scoffed. “Funny. I wasn’t able to blend in even when I was alive. How do you exactly intend to do that? Dress me up in his clothes?” The disdain for Steve’s wardrobe was tangible. 

Dart hissed at him. “Stop being a brat for a few seconds. What I’m saying - Steve has a functioning bathtub, a washing machine and a clothes dryer, no?”

Steve blinked. “How do you know that?”

“Your family is rich,” stated Dart the obvious. “But I also have…personal experience. Warm clothes are the best spot for napping. If you can get to them unguarded.” 

Eddie stared at the elderly cat. “Dartolomew.”

“That’s not my name.” 

Eddie ignored him. “Are you sitting here, looking like the epitome of innocence, and telling me that I stink?! That I’m dirty? That I look like something a cat dragged in?!” 

Dart slowly blinked at Eddie. Steve would learn years later that this was a sign of cat affection. “No, Edward. I didn’t say it, but I’m saying it now. You stink, you’re dirty, and yes, I absolutely did drag you in. Steve can wash and dry your clothes while you soak off all this dirt. We don’t need you to look amazing, you just need to pass for a living being.” 

“You hurt my feelings.” 

The cat disregarded the theatrical grasping at Eddie’s chest. “Spare me the scenes, I know you already agreed. I heard your small…discussion on the matter. I do believe keeping the good people of Hawkins in the dark is the way to go. And that requires you, Eddie, taking a bath.” 

Steve had finally collected himself and was now listening to Dart. “We’ll do that. I might also have some makeup here that mom probably forgot to pack in her rush. We could cover up some of that…uh, unhealthy color?” 

The cat gave him an appreciative nod. “Good. Make him look presentable again, I and Ozzy will make sure your next destination is safe. The Buckley house? Does it have everything you need?” 

Steve thought about it for a few seconds, then agreed. “Should have. Her parents are musicians and have almost everything you can think of. Even a trumpet. I just needed the equipment, but that’s all from here. They should also be away for the weekend.” 

“Perrrrfect. If anything, Ozzy will let you know.”

There was an annoyed squeak that sounded like a question. 

“It has to be you because you can fly and I am old. Now, let’s go. You,” said Dart and pointed his paw at Eddie, “behave.” 

The dead man scowled at him. “Do I even have any say in all this?!” he spat out. 

“No.” 

And with that, the cat and the bat were gone, leaving Eddie and Steve alone.  

“So, uh…” started Steve and wished this hadn’t been as awkward, “...would you like me to bring you a towel? The bathroom’s just to the left of my door. Maybe you can take a quick shower and then stay in the tub for a bit? Just to make sure all of that…grime lets go.” 

Eddie looked ready to murder someone, but he must have realized that Dart’s idea was for the best. He just shrugged off his jacket and handed it to Steve. “I hope you have some good detergent, Steve. I like my clothes soft and fluffy. Like my pancakes.” Then he added, “but if you even try to machine wash my leather jacket, I’ll raise hell.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not that stupid, Eddie. Your jacket will be fine, I’ll find another way to clean it. Leave your clothes on the floor, I’ll come for them in a bit. The washer is there as well, so if you’re worried about your decency or something, use some foam. It’s that pink bottle.” 

“Of course it’s fucking pink,” muttered Eddie and made his way to the bathroom. 

Steve made himself busy. He went to their garage to get a new box of washing powder, gathered some cleaning supplies and rags to clean Eddie’s shoes as well. For a moment, he wondered if the weird smelling stuff his parents used to clean silver - of course not themselves, but the lady they hired - would be a good idea for Eddie’s rings, but he quickly abandoned that idea. Not perfect, just presentable. 

Finally, he returned to the upper floor after the shower had stopped running. That was also exactly the moment he realized he never gave Eddie the promised towel. 

Blame his experience with sports and locker rooms, but Steve never waited too long to enter other men’s spaces. He just knocked on the bathroom door and opened it a second after. He didn’t really pay attention to Eddie’s frame crouched in the bath. “Sorry, I forgot to give you the towel, here you go…do you need anything else?” 

But Eddie didn’t respond. He was sitting in the bathtub, clutching his forearms as if the water was hurting him somehow. Steve finally looked at him and noticed how pressed thin his lips were, how there were still patches of skin covered in more persistent dirt. And most of all, he saw that Eddie avoided getting his hair wet, even though he absolutely needed to wash the dried blood out of them. 

He was glad that Eddie’s forearms covered his chest. He was terrified of what he might see. 

Steve walked up to him and gently touched his shoulder. “Eddie? Are you OK, man?” 

With a jolt, Eddie turned to Steve and splashed him with water. “I…uh. Sorry,” he muttered and pulled his knees even closer to his body. “Yeah, it’s just…it’s warm.” 

“Too warm?” Steve reached towards the tap to pour in some cold water if needed, but Eddie stopped him. 

“No. Just…warm. I forgot what it felt like.” He stared at his knees, his chest, biting his lip. “I remember my skin used to turn, like, really red when I took a shower.”

Steve had no idea what to say. Eddie’s body was just as pale as it had been when he’d crawled out of his resting place. As he touched his shoulder, he felt some warmth, but it just felt wrong. Not the warmth one would feel from touching another living being, but - and Steve hated himself for this comparison - like reheated leftovers that hadn’t been in the microwave for long enough. He searched for a fitting word to describe the feeling and found one - artificial. 

He turned away and started picking up Eddie’s clothes, tossing them to the washer with more care than he’d ever had for his own clothes. 

It was only when he switched on the washing machine and prepared to leave that Eddie asked, “Did they ever look for me?” 

It was a whisper that Steve could barely hear over the whirring of the wash cycle, but it was there. He couldn’t see Eddie’s face, he was curled in on himself, and his forehead was resting on his knees. 

He considered his answer. A simple “yes” wouldn’t do. “For a while they did. Mostly as a person of interest though, they wanted to question you about Chrissy. Pricks.” If Eddie chuckled at that, Steve couldn’t hear it. “Wayne was pushing them a lot, you know. He basically camped outside of the station every day after work. Chief Hopper did everything he could to support a further investigation, he thought the whole thing was fishy as hell. But then they had to stop.”

Eddie raised his head and met Steve’s eyes. “Why?”

“They had a witness that saw you leaving the town.” He hated himself for how plausible it had sounded back then. When Dustin came to Steve, heartbroken that Eddie left without even saying goodbye, Steve consoled him. He tried his best to explain that Eddie was better off without this town, without the constant judgments. That Eddie would definitely reach out when he felt more settled in, more confident. He thought Eddie had the right idea, envied him even! How stupid he’d been. “It was one of the guys from the basketball club, I think? Andy. I guess he just got the date wrong, but he was sure he saw you going to Indy.” 

“That was the week before.” Eddie was shaking his head in disbelief. “What a fucking luck.”

Steve continued. “After that, they dropped it. You were an adult, they said, and they had no right to drag you back. Hopper fought back against it, but Chrissy’s case demanded more funds and more attention.” 

Eddie was quiet. The washing machine began sounding too loud to Steve’s ears, and he felt like he should let Eddie process everything in peace. He began walking towards the door when Eddie called out to him. 

“Uh…could you maybe stay?” 

Steve gestured in Eddie’s general direction. “Don’t you want…like…privacy to wash yourself?” he asked. “Because I can stay, absolutely, but I don’t want to make things awkward for you or…yeah.”

“Ah. Hm. Good point.” Eddie was fidgeting in the water, and Steve had only now noticed that he took off his rings. A quick glance told him that they were now soaking in the bathroom sink, which was very much needed. But now Eddie was even more restless than usual, twisting his fingers and wrists. “Maybe…like, can you leave the door open and stay there? You can sit down so you don’t mess up that leg of yours even worse?” It sounded like a plea.

Steve just stared at him. He wouldn’t pretend he understood Eddie’s thought process, but he wanted to help him calm down, so he walked to the corridor. “Uh…okay? Can do.” 

Eddie’s forehead hit his knees again. “Sorry, it’s just…it’s so stupid. But I don’t want to be alone now. I was down there for so long, I got used to it all. The dark, the cold, the waiting…I guess I just wanted someone to find me, you know? But now that you did, I don’t even know what I want anymore.” 

Sitting down and settling himself against the wall in the hallway, Steve made a low “hmm” sound. Just to show Eddie he was still there. “Don’t you want to move on?” 

“That’s what I thought.” The bathroom was still quiet apart from the whirring. “But now…shit, I understand why everyone warned me not to go up here again. I’ve been meaning to visit that whole year, you know. Bob, Benny, Dart, even Ozzy…they all told me not to, that I’d regret it. That I’d only grow bitter about all the things that I lost. That someone took from me.” 

Steve sucked in a deep breath. He simply had to ask. “Eddie…do you know who did it?” 

No answer. 

The silence stretched out to the point of discomfort, and maybe Eddie didn’t hear him? Maybe he’d have to repeat the question. Or maybe he just didn’t want to answer-

“No. I never saw them. They struck me from behind, and then…I woke up in Benny’s bar. Bob told me it wasn’t the blow that killed me either. It was being buried when I was unconscious. If they just left me there, maybe I would have made it.” 

Steve risked a peek into the bathroom. Eddie was sitting in the tub, staring at the ceiling lights. If he only could embrace Eddie, make things better…or hunt down the bastard that took Eddie from the world. Steve never considered himself a violent person, but now? God, now he understood the urge to kill. 

Illustration by mcdad arts

If Eddie had been aware of Steve’s internal turmoil, he didn’t show it. “That’s the worst part of it, you know. It wouldn’t change anything if I knew who did it, I’d still be stuck down there. But for some reason, I just can’t let go of the why . I knew people around here didn’t like me much, but enough to murder me? To follow me into the woods, to sneak up on me, bury me alive…I just want to know what I did to deserve this.” 

“You didn’t do anything, Eddie. Please don’t…” Steve’s throat felt raw, constricted. But he wouldn’t cry. It wasn’t his place to break down, he was here with Eddie, for Eddie. “...don’t ever think you deserved this. You never deserved anything you got from this shitty town.” He gritted his teeth and added: “And from me.” 

Eddie still wasn’t moving in the bathtub, but at least this time he responded. “What did he promise you?” 

“Huh?” 

“Your dad. That’s yet another why that I’m missing. I mean, me? Sure, I could see you letting go of that. But music? Shit, Steve. You loved it as much as I do.” There was a slight shift, splashing of water. “So how did he make you give it up?” 

Steve’s hands tangled in his own hair and gripped it tightly. He did that a lot nowadays, a sharp tug intended as a punishment when no one could see him. But it was more than that - pain was better than facing his shame. “He didn’t promise me anything, Eddie. He couldn’t promise me anything that would make it worth losing you and what we shared.” 

One more splash. Steve could imagine Eddie leaning over the edge of the bathtub, peering into the darkened hallway. “So what was it?” 

“He…” Steve tugged on his hair again. He wanted to face Eddie, but how could he? Eddie had believed this whole time, alive or undead, that it was him who was inconvenient to Steve, when the truth was exactly the opposite. 

Well. At least he could give Eddie this closure. 

“He told me that if I keep meeting with you, he’ll get Wayne fired and destroy your reputation. He’d force you to move.” 

There, the truth was finally out. As if a dam burst in his head, words started spilling from his mouth, unorganized and jumbled, no other thought behind them than to let Eddie know that none of this was his fault, that he was worth everything to Steve, that letting Eddie go was the most painful thing he’d ever done. 

“That’s why I decided to do it, Eddie, because you and Wayne don’t deserve any of this shit, but my father, he…he would do it, I thought. I wasn’t sure, but how could I risk it? You told me you only had Wayne, that you were constantly moving around before settling in Hawkins.  The job was stable and easier on his health, and Wayne is such a good man. He made me that absolutely disgusting cake for my fifteenth birthday when my parents wouldn’t come home. He tried to learn cooking to make you eat more healthy stuff, and his food was horrible, but he kept trying. And you just seemed so happy and free with him. I couldn’t…I just couldn’t be the reason why everything you had crumbled.” 

He heard Eddie take a sharp breath. “Oh. That’s-” 

Steve continued, not giving Eddie a chance to get a word in. “I wanted to send you a letter or something, but it felt like he had eyes everywhere. I was terrified that I would make things worse. So I just…you said it before, Eddie. I’m a coward. I never told you because I couldn’t bear you knowing that you did everything right, you were so kind to me, you and Wayne, and all it did was nearly destroy your lives.”

He finally let go of his hair. No pain could fight the remorse he felt, the helpless anger at his father, at Eddie’s killer, at the world. “It was just a few more weeks,” he said. “I thought…just a few more weeks and Nancy would be free. She’d graduate, and with her diploma she could escape this hellhole with the…the person she loves. I would have fulfilled my promise. And then…then I’d tell my dad to fuck off, that he was done controlling me. I’d pack my bags and go to Indy. I’d join Wayne and find you, tell you everything. Say I was sorry. I’m so sorry Eddie.” 

He could hear Edie laughing, a soft sound that was equally bitter and amazed. “All this time,” he said, “I thought you never cared. That I was just a way to pass time to you. I was another thing for the town’s rich boy to toss away when he got bored of it. And you’re telling me…it was to protect me? Me and Wayne? What am I supposed to do with that?” 

Steve shook his head, frowning at the floorboards. “Nothing. I just…I wanted to give you some answers. You deserved to know.” 

“Right.”

After a few minutes of silence, Eddie spoke up again. “You can close the door now, I’ll be fine. I’ll come out when I’m done, it shouldn’t take long.” 

Steve scrambled back to his feet. He felt heavy. “Yeah, okay. I’ll get things ready.” 

“Oh, and Steve?” 

He stopped in his tracks. “Yes?” 

Eddie was still sitting in the same position, but his hands were more relaxed. He was resting over his knees, not gripping them. The foam had already dissolved. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

Steve nodded and closed the door. 

Eddie wasn’t lying, he really didn’t take that long. It was impressive, he managed to scrub himself clean and wash his hair too in such a short time, although the bathtub has seen better days. Oh well. Priorities. Steve just started the dryer cycle and labeled the tub as the future Steve’s problem. 

After Steve’s stubborn insistence that Eddie needed to dry his hair and Eddie’s rebuttals that he couldn’t catch a cold if he was dead, Eddie lost to Steve’s sincere “please Eddie, just this one thing.” He begrudgingly went to battle with Mary Harrington’s hairdryer and emerged mostly victorious. “That’s all you get, Harrington!” he growled as he shook out the last droplets of water from his hair. 

Steve could accept that. 

In fresh clothes and washed clean, Eddie should have looked better. But with the grime and dried blood gone, his appearance had shifted from a creature out of a horror movie to…something else. And not in a good way.

Steve remembered seeing some weird show with Dustin Henderson that he couldn’t fully remember, he just recalled that the robots, supposedly human-like, just made him feel weirded out. Dustin had called it “uncanny valley” and gave Steve a detailed explanation that he barely understood. But as he was looking at Eddie now, he finally understood the concept. From far away, Eddie could pass for a living human. Up close? Not a chance. 

Eddie noticed it too. He was studying himself in a large mirror, scowling at his own reflection. “I hate to admit this,” he said, tugging at his cheeks, his under eye circles, “but I might need that makeup.” 

Steve huffed a short laugh and moved closer with a sponge and Mary’s liquid makeup. She was pretty pale and rarely tanned, so the shade might just work for Eddie. “Face the light and stay still. We’re so lucky your hair is this long, otherwise I’d have to paint your ears too.” 

The dead man flinched as the sponge touched his face. “You leave my ears out of this. Ew, this is disgusting.” 

Even though Steve was putting everything he knew into doing Eddie’s makeup, the result wasn’t anywhere near as good as when he did Robin’s makeup for her prom. It wasn’t just Eddie’s stubble - it seemed as if the skin was just refusing to soak up the product. He remembered a movie he’d seen recently, Death Becomes Her. The unlucky guy there said something…something about makeup acting differently on corpse skin, and he also said-

“I should have bought spray paint,” he muttered as he willed the makeup to accept its new purpose. 

Eddie gasped with indignation. “I’ll have you know that when I walk through the Pearly gates, my face will be sparkling clean, just like the day I was born. No spray shall touch this fair skin.” 

Steve pressed the sponge to his upper lip to stop him from talking. “Funny, considering that even today you were keen on keeping your grime and dirt well into the afterlife.” 

“Mffft.” 

“That’s what I thought.” 

The end result was…acceptable. The skin texture wasn’t great and the blending on Eddie’s neck left something to be desired, but then again Eddie wasn’t going to a photoshoot. Through insults and muttered complaints, Steve cleaned his eyebrows and applied tinted balm to Eddie’s blue-ish lips. 

One final check in the mirror and Eddie gave his newly alive look a reluctant okay. “I mean. The eyes still give it away. But the blush kinda helped.” 

Steve stretched his back and yawned. It was killing him after crouching in front of Eddie for what felt like forever. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. If we’re lucky, people will only see you from a distance. And if I’m not standing right in front of you, I can’t tell. Worst case scenario, people will think you have a really bad hangover.” 

Eddie flung himself against the mirror and gasped. “Me? Edward Munson, drunk?! Unheard of!” 

Once again, it felt too easy. Too comfortable to ever let go. But Steve leaned into it this time, laughing at Eddie’s antics. “Ah yes, the famously alcohol-averse Edward Munson. The Edward Munson who puked his guts out after finding and drinking most of my dad’s rum.” 

Eddie winced. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’ll forever call that one spot in your garden my shrubbery of shame .” 

Steve had finally finished packing everything they needed. A small recorder, a bunch of empty tapes…it wasn’t much, but it had to do. Robin’s living room had pretty good acoustic and a well-tuned guitar. “Okay, we can go.” 

He didn’t even have a chance to protest when Eddie grabbed the backpack and slung it over his shoulder. Eddie tutted at him. “You should learn by now. No limping on my watch.” 

“No guarantees.” 

They exited the Harrington house and started making their way to the final stage of their plan. 

Chapter Text

Jason Carver was anything but happy about the recent developments.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find Nancy Wheeler attractive, of course not. She was beautiful, polite and crazy smart. Jason respected her, even if she was a bit too headstrong for his liking. Anyone would be thrilled to marry her. 

But no matter how perfect she was, she wasn’t Chrissy Cunningham.

Jason begged his parents for more time. “I'm not ready to give up on her yet,” he told them. The investigation wasn’t closed, there were still leads to follow, he was sure of that! Just let him talk to Chief Hopper, give him one last chance! 

But his parents sat him down and no matter how many words they said, they always boiled down to the same answer - no. His mother gently took hold of his hand and told him, “you need to face the truth, Jason. Chrissy Cunningham is gone. You can’t spend the rest of your life chasing a ghost.”

He would have loved to tell her that as long as there was no body found, there was still hope. But it had been a year, and despite his desperate persistence, Jason was starting to feel the truth creep up on him. That Chrissy Cunningham was lost to him forever.

Maybe that realization was what made him say yes in the end. He was so tired of it all, the questioning, following leads, chasing the Hawkins PD for answers they didn’t have. If Eddie Munson had still been around, Jason would force him to spill everything he knew. But that ship had long sailed. Instead, Jason was trapped in a constant cycle of regret and misery.

Maybe it was time to let go. He did everything he could, searched every corner of Hawkins. Maybe his mother was right, and he deserved his happy ending. As happy as it could be.

He vowed to do right by Nancy. This was his second chance, his redemption for failing Chrissy. He bore no ill will towards Harrington, but he knew all too well how much it hurt to lose his partner so shortly before the wedding.

He opened his wallet and took out a small photograph, its edges frayed from constant touches, words it couldn’t hear. It was Chrissy in her cheerleading outfit on the day Jason’s team won their championship game. She was smiling without a single care in the world. There was a reason why Jason kept using this picture for all the missing posters, it showed exactly who she was. 

“I’m so sorry, Chrissy,” he whispered as he kissed the picture one last time. Slowly, he opened his desk drawer and put the picture there, to the very far back. He couldn’t bring himself to throw it away, but this was a good start.

He gave it the last wistful look before he closed the drawer and walked over to his closet. He had to find his suit and get ready for the most important day of his life.

Chapter Text

They met Dart and Ozzy in front of the Buckley house. The elderly cat just announced that everything was in order, and that he was too old for all this excitement. “I’m going to take a nap home before Dustin organizes a search party for me,” he yawned. “Ozzy will stay with you. I’ll come to check on you around lunchtime, so no more scandals and escapades, please.” 

Eddie crouched to scratch his head as a thank you. “Sleep well, Dart.” He then picked up Ozzy and safely stashed him in his usual pocket. 

Robin’s house was, as always, peaceful. The sight of the imperfect garden made to be used, not just viewed, the peeling window paint, the weird gnome statuettes peeking from random corners, it all made Steve feel more at home than he’d ever been in his own house. The woods by the back window were dark and quiet. If they were careful, they wouldn’t be heard or seen by anyone.

The whole house was dark too. Steve was confused, Robin should have been home, but maybe she had a sleepover with Nancy, you know, to console her friend after the groom had disappeared. He hoped that was the case. 

Eddie was eyeing the colorful front door. “Do you want me to break in? If you have a hairpin or something like that, I’m like ninety percent confident I could pick the lock.”

Steve laughed out loud. “While it sounds absolutely charming, we’re trying to look inconspicous. Let’s go for the boring solution instead.” With that, he reached under the ugliest gnome statuette - it had amanitas growing out of its beard, why? - and produced the key.

“You really know how to show a guy a good time,” grumbled Eddie, but followed him through the door anyway. 

Not even an hour later, they were ready to start recording. Steve brewed a huge pot of coffee to keep him awake. He didn’t think he could sleep anyway, but Eddie was giving him secret guilty looks at every suppressed yawn, even suggesting Steve could take a nap, that Eddie would keep watch, no worries. “I haven’t slept in a year, so I didn’t realize,” he muttered through a strand of hair he was chewing on. “I don’t want you fainting mid-song, and that couch looks comfy enough, so how about it?” 

Steve just gave him a blank stare and downed a massive mug of coffee in one go, almost burning his tongue on it. As if he’d waste a single second he could spend with Eddie. 

Their setup was small, but Steve thought it didn’t need anything else. The beauty of Eddie’s music was that it didn’t require a huge band or an orchestra to pull on the listener’s heartstrings. Eddie didn’t have any formal musical education, he didn’t know all the fancy words like legato , crescendo or forte . But he had a feel for music so great that even his high school music teacher who otherwise hated his guts had to admit he had potential. 

When they were still allowed to meet, younger, enamored with music and each other’s company, Eddie would hum his melodies, usually choosing the acoustic guitar to carry the main tune. He kept playing them over and over again, giving Steve space to experiment with potential accompaniments. He only occasionally took over the piano and gave instructions such as “I thought this part could use a bit more force, you know. I’ll go quieter on the guitar, and the piano will become the main instrument until the next verse, what do you think? It should be something like a dialogue between the two instruments. Imagine I’m rambling, and you really want to say something, so you start speaking at the same time and going louder and louder, hoping I’ll get the drift and shut up.” 

He trusted Steve with this work, and Steve was so grateful. He vowed never to disappoint Eddie, and to that day he hoped he hadn’t, at least not when it came to music. 

As he sat down at the piano, he gently stroked the familiar keys. His eyes were burning again. He’d prayed for the day when he’d be able to do this with Eddie again, only to realize that this would be the last time they’d ever play together. 

Eddie had just finished tuning the guitar to his liking. He shifted on the stool to face Steve and smiled. “I missed this, you know.” 

Steve returned the smile as well as he could. “Me too. It hadn’t been the same without you.” 

Shrugging, Eddie ran his fingers across the strings, stretching and adjusting his grip. “Eh, I think you were doing just fine without me. I liked your adjustments to the chorus of “Remains of the day”, they make it sound a bit more playful. The original sound was a bit too creepy.” 

His tone was flat, as if it was just a simple observation. But Steve’s hands stilled over the keyboard, staring at Eddie with mouth wide open. “How…” he choked out, “...how do you know? I made them only a few months back. You’ve never...I mean, you were already-” 

“Steve.” There was no malice in Eddie’s words, but his smile faltered. It was still there, yet somehow sad. “Are you telling me you haven’t noticed?” 

“Noticed what?” 

The dead man pointed towards the dark trees behind the window glass. “Where this window leads.” 

Steve’s eyes finally betrayed him. He rapidly blinked, but one tear made it out and rolled down his cheek, between his lips. He tasted the salt as he remembered all the times he’d sat here, playing Eddie’s melodies from memory whenever Nancy and Robin decided to go upstairs to have more privacy. 

There wasn’t a single visit when he wouldn’t play them. Steve felt the constant urge to keep repeating them, committing them to memory. He wanted to burn them into his brain so he could never lose a single detail. Maybe one day, when he’d succeeded begging Eddie for his forgiveness, he’d play them for him. He would show Eddie that he never let himself forget, never stopped thinking about him . 

He pictured himself sitting there, tens, hundreds of times. The window was usually open to sell the illusion that Robin was playing during their visits. And even in the dark, Steve realized where the narrow path between the trees led - to the small clearing in the woods, to the freshly dug hole in the ground where someone had buried Steve’s heart. 

“No way,” he whispered. The taste of salt on his lips didn’t relent, and he didn’t try to control it any longer. “You heard me? You heard me all this time when…?” 

Eddie nodded. For a moment, it seemed like he wanted to get up, maybe join Steve at the piano, but then he changed his mind. Instead, he started fidgeting with his rings again. “Yeah. Not to inflate your ego, Steve, but oh well. We’ve come this far. You were my main reason for not moving on.” 

He huffed a short laugh when Steve gave him a confused, teary-eyed look. “It’s true. I was lying there for a while, and you know how much I hate staying still. I was considering giving up and just moving on for quite a while. But whenever I thought I could give it all up, just forget my dreams and all that was keeping me here, I heard you. It was like a part of me was still up here, waiting to be reclaimed. You were safeguarding my songs, and I of course knew I could never come back, but somehow…I just hoped, Steve. I didn’t think, I just…hope isn’t the correct word. I yearned to come back, that’s it. Because there was someone calling me back every single day.” 

Steve’s eyes didn’t leave him for a second. “But everyone down there said…they said that you were playing all the time. Practicing.” 

“I did. And it drove me crazy that my own songs didn’t sound right anymore. I tried replicating everything I’d heard from you, but…” Fondness crept into Eddie’s voice, as if he was recalling a precious memory. “It never sounded right. I blamed it on the corpse fingers, the stiffness of dead muscles, but I guess I was lying to myself. Playing these songs by myself just wouldn’t do because you became a part of them. They weren’t complete without you.” 

“Eddie…” 

Eddie shushed him. “And if you think that I was listening to you just because I had nothing better to do, well, you might be partially right. But also…I’d known you kept playing my songs long before I died, you know. Why do you think I was in the woods the day I died? It’s not like I’m one of those crazy fans of nature who love walking in the woods, getting all muddy and wet and collecting ticks and other bloodsucking creatures. I’d known about your playing for months, Steve. And I…uh.” He pulled a strand of hair in front of his face, hiding his expression. “I actually kept going there a lot. I sat on that tree stump, listening to my, well, our songs. I still hated your guts, but a part of me felt so happy that you seemed to have as much trouble letting me go as I had you.” 

Steve was hit with a sudden wave of nausea and numbness. His fingers were still laid on the keyboard, but their feel was now uncertain, foreign. “So you're telling me that all this time it was me?” he whispered. It hurt to even voice his thoughts. “It was me who kept you trapped in that grave? Who…who lured you there to be killed?! If I let you go, you could have had peace. You…you could have even lived! Eddie, I don’t even know how to begin to say how sorry I am. Nothing I say will ever be enough.” Steve withdrew his hands from the piano, wrapping them around his body. “You gave me so much and I…I made things worse every single time. I caused this. All of this.” 

He didn’t see it when Eddie set down his guitar, but he heard the hollow thunk of it. The clinking of Eddie’s metal chain, the squeaking of his old sneakers, it used to feel so right. But now…

Eddie nudged his side and squeezed next to him onto the wide stool. “Hey, Steve. Let me say something. Sure, we’ve had our not so great moments, with your dad’s blackmail and stuff like that. But, and get your eyes up here, Harrington, I’m being earnest and I demand an audience for it!” 

When Steve’s wet eyes found his, Eddie snuck his arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him close. Steve leaned into the embrace with a quiet sob, clutching Eddie’s band t-shirt. Eddie didn’t seem to mind. “Apart from the whole protecting me and Wayne through being a dick, you didn’t cause me any pain. Really. You have no idea how much our friendship meant to me.” 

Steve’s face was buried in Eddie’s jacket, but he still managed to produce a “huh?” sound. 

“It did. When I moved here, I didn’t know anyone, and Wayne was trying to figure out how to make it work with the plant shifts and stuff. I was bullied all the time, I wasn’t much of a looker without my hair. So I just thought I’d spend all the time until my graduation keeping to myself, which was lonely as hell. The music room helped. And then one day…a pretty boy who had to have tens of friends approached me and asked me to teach him. I felt so lucky.”

Steve still wouldn’t show his face, but his arms around Eddie’s waist tightened. “Pretty sure it was me who was lucky. You changed my life.

Eddie squeezed his shoulders, cradling Steve close. “Shush. This is my life changing story, get your own. For some reason, that pretty boy chose me . Even though I was mostly flying through the playing and teaching blind, he kept coming back. Not just that - he actually listened to me. He heard my rambling, all those unrealistic plans, dreams, the outrageous ideas, and he believed in me.”

Steve had finally settled against him, his breathing under control again. Eddie continued. “Do you remember when we started playing together, Steve? I was so freaking anxious because I realized I couldn’t possibly play both instruments at the same time when I finally got to record my stuff. And I couldn’t ask anyone because I couldn’t write or read the stupid sheet music. Still can’t, by the way. But you just sat down at the piano and told me: “Tell me what you need me to play. I’ll do it.” You said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world, to spend all your free afternoons playing what I threw at you. As if you didn’t have anything better, more important to do.” 

That finally made Steve stir in Eddie’s arms. He straightened his back and looked Eddie in the eyes, wiping away the rogue tears. “I didn’t. It was the most important thing to me, Eddie. And still is. Likely will always be.”

Eddie wasn’t really thinking, he just reached out and ruffled Steve’s hair. It was so different with all the product in it, but there was a touching familiarity in the gesture. They used to ruffle each other’s hair when Eddie’s finally decided to grow out and looked like a wild nest of curls. “No neat hairstyles in my music class, Harrington! Go wild and go home!” he’d say.

“I’m glad to hear that,” whispered Eddie and god, he wasn’t lying. Being an important part of Steve Harrington’s life was addictive. Intoxicating. “So how about a small practice before we start recording, big boy? I recall you liking that four hand piece we adapted from Back to the Future.” He extended his hand, as if he was asking Steve to dance. “Accompany my beloved nerdy music, my liege?” 

Steve beamed at him. “My pleasure, lord Edward,” he said and took his hand. 

The night was long and Steve gradually drank the whole pot of coffee. He couldn’t imagine preferring sleep to this. The moment they both sat down at the piano, it was as if they were two puzzle pieces that belonged together. Something clicked, and Steve felt whole again. Compared to that, sleep was ridiculously overrated. 

Not everything went smoothly, of course. Eddie had made some adjustments to the music during their time apart, and it took Steve a while to catch up, to bridge the gaps. They mused and tried out new passages, re-did the old ones, played around with the cassette recorder to get the perfect balance for both instruments. But most of all, they just revisited the past and brought back the best of it. 

The recording was supposed to take long hours, but Steve supposed theirs was an exception. After all, what was there to improve on when all of these songs had been cherished, perfected and preserved over many long years? Eddie’s more recent changes made sense to Steve, it was enough to hear them just once, twice, and then they blended into what he’d already known. His ankle still hurt as he used the pedals, but Bob’s bandage kept it fixed in place well enough. 

Not all of Eddie’s songs had lyrics, but for the ones that had, Steve admired how Eddie’s voice had grown into them. It was more hoarse and less polished than when they’d practiced the last time, but there was emotion and maturity that the sixteen year old Eddie Munson hadn’t possessed. Now, his voice was perfect. 

They only had a few breaks, a bunch for coffee, one for Steve to take a quick shower to make sure he was fully alert, and then one to share a cigarette outside. Eddie complained about not having had a smoke for over a year. Steve got up and reached blindly behind a potted plant to produce a well-concealed pack of cigarettes and a lighter. With an awestruck expression, Eddie grasped his hand and squeezed it. “I could just marry you right here, Steve Harrington. Oh wait!” he laughed and wiggled his ringed finger at him. Steve’s heart didn’t beat faster after that, nope, not at all.

Eventually, they saw the sun rise through the trees. They’d just finished going through their final recording, with Eddie’s comments and introductions before each song. Steve squeezed Eddie’s hand. “If that Craig guy doesn’t love it, he has no taste,” he announced. He felt ridiculously proud. 

“One can only hope.” Eddie shrugged off his jacket and, after an annoyed squeak, removed Ozzy from the comfort of the chest pocket. “Hey, do you think the Buckleys have some fruit they could spare? Ozzy gets really bitchy when he’s hungry.” 

Steve laughed at that and dragged Eddie towards the kitchen. “Don’t we all? Let me just open a window, the air here is horrible.” 

Leaving the living room to breathe a little, they made their way to the kitchen’s fruit bowl. “He likes sweet apples,” muttered Eddie as he dug through the neatly arranged pile of produce. “Does this look sweet to you?” 

Steve took the apple from him and bit into it. “Yep, sweet. Let me cut it for him.” Noticing Eddie’s confused look, he laughed again. “What, you don’t think Ozzy is important enough to have his own taste tester?” 

“I do now.” 

Steve switched the kettle on again. It wasn’t that he needed another cup of coffee, but it was morning, and as they say, old habits die hard. He worked fast with the knife, chopping the apple into small cubes. The sound of water boiling was familiar and comforting, and having Eddie by his side in the kitchen when he was preparing breakfast? It could have been the only thing he needed in his life, he thought. 

There was a quiet sound behind them, but it got drowned out by the kettle. Maybe a draft from the open window rustled the torn plastic wrap of the tape they used. 

“So…” began Eddie, playing with his rings again. “What now? When does the post open?” 

“I took one of those padded envelopes with us, and a bunch of stamps my dad had in his office. So if you know the address, we can just pack it and send it through that collection box we passed yesterday. Do you want to add some sort of an introduction, a letter or something?” 

Eddie rubbed his temples, sighing. “I should. Let me do that. You have a paper and a pen in that magical bag of yours?” 

“Sure do.” 

They made their way back to the living room. While Steve served Ozzy a bowl of neatly cut fruit, Eddie sat down to the decorative table and started writing, his tongue sticking out in concentration. “Dear…Craig. I hope…you didn’t forget about me. Here’s…the demo…I promised. You can…do whatever you want…with it, I don’t think I’ll be able…to work on it again. But…if it makes any money…my part goes to Wayne. You know Wayne. And…you won’t be a dick to Wayne, will you?” He paused, tapping his pen against the paper. Then he added: “Thanks for giving me a chance, I appreciate it. Take care…Eddie Munson.” 

While he was writing, Steve was carefully walking around the room, cleaning the mess they’d made. He was just picking up the torn plastic wrap and got stuck thinking that it seemed too much? They only opened one tape. It was probably normal and he was just tired. He also swept up the dirt and a bunch of small feathers they must have brought from their smoke break. His father called it a stupid itch, but cleaning gave him a purpose and clarity. 

He also tried to nudge Ozzy away from the half-eaten bowl of fruit to clean under him, but the small creature wouldn’t budge. He was splayed on the table and playfully bit into Steve’s finger when he attempted to move him. Message received loud and clear. 

As he finished putting the room to its original state, Eddie was already standing by the door, envelope in hand. “Shall we?” he asked.

Steve wanted nothing less than to walk out of that door. It was yet another step towards losing Eddie forever, but it was the right thing to do. “Sure,” he nodded and grabbed the keys. “Ozzy, are you coming?” 

The small bat squeaked at him, and while Steve still couldn’t understand what he was saying, the tone was clear. Ozzy was still lying on the table, flat as a pancake, and moving him would probably start another world war. 

Eddie patted Steve’s shoulder. “The window is open, he’ll let himself out when he wants to. Plus I’m sure he still has some fruit there. See you later, buddy!” 

With an awkward wave at their winged friend, they left Robin’s house and locked the door. 

Steve didn’t know what to expect from the rest of his day. Dropping the envelope in the collection box was the only clear point in his future. He remembered staring at the yellow package, at Eddie’s wild handwriting, and he felt an overwhelming urge to tear it out of Eddie’s hands and stomp on it. He wanted to keep Eddie right here with him, tell him that they could actually do better, they could stay for a few days, weeks, months to practice, to improve their work. Maybe people wouldn’t be able to tell Eddie was dead. Maybe he could still achieve his dreams, if only-

But then Eddie dropped the envelope in the box and that potential future, the future where Eddie finally achieved what he’d dreamed of for over a decade, dissolved in front of Steve’s eyes. 

From Eddie’s sad smile, his thoughts followed a similar pattern. “It’s going to be okay,” he told Steve, maybe himself too. 

Just as they were about to walk back and go collect the stuff they had left at the Buckley house, Steve heard a shout. “You! Steve!” 

It wasn’t excited or joyful. Or even angry. Robin’s voice was shaking, and it sounded like she was battling a panic attack. 

Steve turned around and hobbled towards her. She was still wearing yesterday’s clothes and was disheveled, even for her standards. “Robin? What’s wrong?” 

She sprinted to him and hit his chest, again and again, and it took Steve a moment to realize she was crying. “Where…the fuck…have you been?!” she snapped at him with each hit. “We were so worried! I thought…I…”

Eddie quietly joined them. He didn’t say anything, just observed. 

Robin finally stopped hitting him and collapsed against Steve in a forceful hug, burying her face in his chest. “Everything went so wrong, Steve,” she whispered. “So wrong. We weren’t careful enough, Nancy’s dad, he…he found out. He’s furious. He locked Nancy in her room and had his friend’s son keep watch over her window so she wouldn’t escape. He also kept me in their house until he could reach my parents in the morning to tell them how I…” she grimaced, “...how I ruined his daughter.” 

Steve was stroking her back, his thoughts racing. “But your parents know. They don’t care, right?” 

“They don’t. When he couldn’t get them to be angry about it, he kicked me out of his house. Just now. But Ted fucking Wheeler can’t have a queer daughter.” She was crying even harder now, hands grasping at Steve’s t-shirt. “He told her she’ll get married no matter what. But not to you, because he knows how you covered for us. He doesn’t trust you to fix her.” She spat out the last sentence in helpless anger. 

“That guy’s a monster,” Eddie whispered. Steve wholeheartedly agreed. 

Robin kept on rambling, and every word she uttered made Steve’s heart sink even more. “She’s still getting married, he made sure to arrange that, and as soon as possible. It’s today…in an hour. He told her that if she doesn’t comply, she’ll be dead to him and will never be allowed to see her siblings again. She loves Mike and Holly, Steve, she couldn’t live without them. She…I think she’s going to go through with it. Maybe she’ll think of something, but I couldn’t get to her, I couldn’t even talk to her, and there is no time, Steve. Nancy is so smart, but I can’t see a way out of this that won’t destroy her life.” 

“I’m so sorry, Robs. Robin…” Steve squeezed her shoulders and pulled her away, just to see her face. “Robin. This is important. Who is she marrying?” 

Her lip wobbled as she said, “Jason Carver. Apparently his parents are eager to find him a good wife and forget the whole Chrissy fiasco.” 

A loud gasp made both Robin and Steve snap out of their misery. Eddie was staring past them, eyes open wide in his shock. “Not him,” he whispered. “Anyone but him.” 

Steve turned to Eddie, still keeping an arm around Robin. “Have you met him?” he asked. 

“Oh, I have.” Eddie’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “He’s a good Christian boy, that’s for sure. If Wheeler marries him, he’ll never let her go. He knows what life’s supposed to look like, and if she happens to disagree? Tough luck. Especially in Hawkins.” 

Robin stared at Eddie and something dawned behind her eyes. “You…Eddie, right? Are you…okay? You don’t seem okay. When did you even come back to Hawkins?” 

Eddie opened his mouth to answer, but Steve took both of their hands and tugged them forward to get them moving. “Can you give Robin the short version while we’re walking, Eddie? I’m afraid we’re on a tight schedule. We have a wedding to crash.” 

Eddie grinned at him. “I take my sarcasm back, Harrington. You really do know how to show a guy a good time.” 

Chapter Text

Nancy Wheeler was staring at her reflection in the mirror. She hated what she was seeing.

She was pale from the lack of sleep and worry, no matter how much her mother tried with the makeup. Her eyes looked smaller, drowned by the dark circles. Her hair was tamed to the point that it was almost unrecognizable, her prized curls were straightened and pulled into a neat wedding bun. And most of all, she’d always hated wearing white. 

Months ago, she hoped that the dress would stay in the closet forever, unlike her (if she decided to be naively optimistic about her future). Yesterday, she thought the worst thing that could happen was being forced to marry one of her best friends. And today…

She scowled as she recalled their plans, now shattered. They had almost made it. Even if she had married Steve, they could have gotten divorced afterwards. Or maybe not - not as long as they’d stayed in Hawkins. But the world was wide. They could have moved. Robin could have come with them. They could have kept up the facade until they had room to breathe. 

But that wasn’t what she wanted. 

Did she regret not marrying Steve for the sake of convenience, as another ruse, another mask? She’d had too many hours to think about it, after Robin was dragged out of the room and Nancy’s fate was decided without her. She considered all the options, all the steps she took, and…no. She wouldn’t have changed anything. Because Steve wasn’t just her ex, he was her friend. He was someone who kept swallowing down his own pain and shielded her from everyone’s judgment so she could be herself for a few brief moments. It would have been so unfair to him. Nancy couldn’t do that. 

And now he was missing. Her mind was supplying the worst scenarios possible - Steve got assaulted and left somewhere. Steve got injured and he’s waiting for help. Steve fell into the quarry and drowned. Nancy was aware she had a pessimistic mindset, but after Barb, she would never take someone’s living, breathing presence for granted. And apart from that one moment of desperation, deep down she knew one thing - Steve would have never abandoned her and Robin. 

She went to her father and pleaded to let her look for him. She was even ready to make a false promise to go ahead with the wedding the next day, only to reject Steve at the altar to give him his freedom back. But instead of taking her concerns seriously, Ted Wheeler just told her to wait. She’d waited. And then, worried sick about Steve, she made a mistake that would cost her everything. 

Or maybe not. 

Nancy Wheeler always paid her debts and fixed her messes. Her future, her freedom, it meant nothing if she abandoned the ones she loved. Refusing the marriage would end up with her being held at home until she changed her mind. All while Steve was losing precious time.

She turned away from the mirror and adjusted her veil one last time. “I’m ready.” 

Karen Wheeler stood in the doorway, barely containing her misery. She had to wear waterproof mascara so the angry tears wouldn’t win. “I’m so sorry, Nancy,” she whispered. “I hoped this would be a good day for you. Maybe one day, when…you know. When it could happen.” 

“I know, mom. And thank you for trying.” Nancy wrapped her hands around her mother’s waist, pulling her into a hug. 

Karen held her close, careful not to smudge her lipstick on the white dress. “I should have tried harder. How could I let it get this far? Let me to talk to dad, give him an ultimatum, something-”

“Don’t. Mike and Holly…they should be kept out of this. They don’t deserve to have their home ruined because of me.” She pulled back and wiped away the wetness on her mother’s cheek. “It’s not over, mom. It’s just a setback. I can’t say I have a plan, but…I think that if I have to go down, I’d like to do it fighting.” 

Karen smiled at her with pride that Nancy didn’t feel she deserved. “That’s my girl. And if you need a distraction, maybe to set someone on fire…I still have that lighter.” They laughed together, a brief moment of levity before what felt like the end of Nancy’s life. “I’ll follow your lead. You’re so brave.”

Nancy returned the smile and walked out of the door, determined to see it through. 

She would wear the white wedding dress she hated. 

She would walk down the aisle, give her father what he wanted…for now. 

And then she’d break free and find Steve. Maybe talk to Chief Hopper about being forced into a marriage. He seemed like a reasonable man. And if everything else failed, she could always run away and find her mom and siblings when they were older. 

Mike was arguing with their father downstairs, almost shouting. “I object!” 

Ted Wheeler decided to, as was his usual approach, disregard any part of reality he found inconvenient. Like his son. “Mike, you can only say that during the ceremony. And if you know what’s good for you and your sister, you won’t even think the word.” 

“But she was supposed to marry Steve!” Mike sounded incredulous. In Nancy’s mind, he was still so young. He was supposed to be playing Dungeons and Dragons, meet with his friends and ride bikes all over Hawkins, maybe get his first girlfriend. He should not be losing his mind over Nancy’s doomed wedding. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like Steve, but sometimes he’s at least a bit cool! And he likes Nancy. Jason never even spoke to her. How can that be good?” 

Ted’s bored gaze found his daughter frozen on the stairs, listening. He turned to her and gestured to move closer. “Would you like to comment on that, Nancy?” 

She shook her head. When she finally reached Mike, she squeezed his shoulder. “It’s okay, Mike. It’s all going to end well.” 

It took only seconds for the doorbell to ring. For the neighbors to gather, to congratulate her, accompany her to the church. 

“Here comes the bride,” she whispered and left her childhood home.

Chapter Text

The whole rush to the church was a blur to Steve. He was distantly aware of Eddie’s sped up summary of the last day that sounded more like a drunken nightmare instead of something that could have ever happened. He didn't bother adding any details, instead focusing on the feel of Robin and Eddie’s arms under his. Steve had originally started speed walking and tried to keep his pained expression at bay, but a few whispers behind him put a prompt end to that. They both grabbed him, supported his weight enough to lessen the pain in his ankle and off they went.

Robin, to her credit, remained mostly quiet. Maybe it was the shortness of breath - as Eddie had said before, not needing any oxygen had its merits - but she took the whole story in literal stride. Only when Eddie finished with tossing the tape in the mail did she say something.

“I wish I could have seen Dick’s face when you did the stabby thing. He deserved that. And more.” Her tone didn’t betray much, but there was a hidden sting.

Eddie laughed. “Damn right he did. Although you’ve surprised me, Buckley. You seem pretty chill with the whole living dead thing.”

She kept her eyes on the road, carefully synchronizing her steps with Steve. “Trust me, I’m freaking out on the inside. But I saw you up close. You…don’t look right. Having a crazy explanation is better than guessing and coming up with an even crazier one.” After a few seconds of silence, she added, “and also I don’t have time to faint, scream my head off, or do whatever you’re expecting. Nancy’s about to marry that douchebag, and I can only handle one crisis at a time.”

“Wise.”

As they arrived at the church door, Steve turned to face them. “How do I look?” 

It wasn’t really a question. He was disheveled and for how crazy his heart was beating, he was dead tired. No pun intended. 

Eddie smirked at him and tucked a rogue hair strand behind Steve’s ear. “Perfect, like always.” 

“Yeah yeah, but you also look like someone who was supposed to crash the wedding five minutes ago,” snapped Robin and pushed him towards the door. “Let’s go!” 

That was an order he could easily follow. Steve straightened his back and pushed the heavy doors open. 

He was met with dozens of pairs of eyes. Frightened, relieved, confused…but mostly judging.

The church wasn’t nearly as full as Steve expected, but his stomach still gave an uncomfortable squeeze, as if it begged him not to draw any more attention to themselves. But he had to do it, had to be in the spotlight again. Especially when Nancy was about to have her life ruined in a way much worse than had been in her stars just a few days prior. 

Swallowing down the rising panic, Steve took a deep breath. “I object!” 

If Brenner’s stare could kill, Steve would be hanged, stabbed, stoned and set on fire all at once. 

But as cheesy as it may have sounded, he was afraid of nothing when he had Eddie by his side. 

“You’re late, young man,” Brenner said. “You had your chance already, you squandered it. Isn’t ruining one wedding enough for you?” 

“Not at all, sir.” Steve was marching ahead, still holding Eddie’s hand and focusing on not letting his pain show. This wasn’t a place to show weakness. “This one is far more enjoyable to ruin. Because the bride actually doesn’t want to marry him. I doubt God looks kindly at coercion.” 

Nancy smiled at him with so much warmth and disbelief it made his heart jump. “Steve, you came! You’re okay!” she whispered. She bit her lip when she saw Robin behind his back, sneaking to the side and making her way to the altar. To do what, Steve wasn’t sure, but he would support her no matter what, even if she tried to abduct Nancy by throwing her over her shoulder. 

But before he could respond, another voice interrupted them. “You dare to speak about God when you keep this company?!” 

Jason Carver was shaking. He stared at Eddie with a look so hateful and terrified that he must have seen through the ruse, even though Eddie was still far away. Eddie wasn’t facing any of the wedding guests, but Carver’s expression betrayed that he knew . 

“I don’t know what dark entity brought you back, freak, but you don’t belong here. You can’t be in the house of God! I won’t allow you to ruin more lives than you already have!” 

Nancy took a step back, watching Jason with confusion. “What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t you see? He’s dead! His…his eyes are all wrong. He was gone for over a year and now he’s come back…different.” Jason was pale under his usual tan. He was licking his lips between sentences, staring at Eddie as if he’d been sent to drag him to hell. “You should be dead and I don’t care what black magic you are using, you will return to the grave. The dead have no right to walk amongst the living!” 

“Ooooh, scary!” muttered Eddie, but Jason wasn’t listening. His focus had shifted to the wedding guests.

He turned to the seated people of Hawkins and raised arms. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I know how preposterous it sounds, but take a single look at his face and tell me, is this the Eddie Munson you knew?!”

More people turned to Eddie, studying him and flinching as the realization hit them. “No,” was the resounding answer. 

Jason continued his speech, turning to pastor Brenner. “Pastor, you are a man of God. Will you allow this? Will you allow this abomination to disturb this joyful day?!” 

“No!” shouted one of Jason’s friends. Steve recognized him - it was Patrick, Jason’s teammate and a constant sidekick. “Not in this town!” 

There it was, that famous magnetic personality. Jason could rally crowds, inspire bravery and righteous anger with his speeches, just like he had when Chrissy disappeared. Steve could see the wedding guests stirring in their seats, some slowly getting up, moving towards him and Eddie. He grasped his hand, disregarding its coldness – it provided much more warmth to him than many had in life. So what if he was supposed to be dead! 

Dead …

Steve took a deep, sharp breath. Was this …?

The mob in fancy clothes was approaching. 

“Steve?” whispered Eddie and tugged on his hand, urging him to follow him out of the church. “I’m pretty sure this is our cue to leave. Maybe run. Fast. I’m sure the bride to be will follow.”

But Steve shook his head and let go of Eddie’s hand, a single caress on his knuckles as a promise of return before he took a step forward. 

“How do you know, Jason?” 

The groom stared at him, confused. The charm was temporarily broken and people stopped in their tracks, glancing between the two men. “How do I know what?” asked Jason.

Steve couldn’t help himself, he felt his trademark bitchy smirk tugging on his lips. He might not have been academically smart, but he knew people. And that right there? That was a man sweating underneath his expensive wedding suit, and not because the church was too warm, oh no. 

He took another step forward and motioned for the people to sit, no struggling for confidence this time, no wondering if he deserved the attention, the respect he felt when they returned to their seats, confused but obeying. Because this wasn’t about him – this was about Eddie in every single way. If he was honest with himself, he couldn’t really remember when things hadn’t been about Eddie. 

“How do you know Eddie is dead?” he asked again, loud and clear. “Because that was an impressive monster hunt speech. And yet…no one could have told you Eddie is dead. He’s moving. He’s breathing, when he remembers to. Sure, I told my parents and Robin too, but I know for certain none of them told you. My parents would never say something so preposterous aloud, and Robin didn’t know until just a few minutes ago. The point is - Eddie does look alive if you don’t see him up close. But you are so certain from the second we walked in that he’s dead. Or at least…that he was dead at some point.” 

Jason grew several shades paler, if that was even possible. He was gripping Nancy’s elbow so tightly that she bit her lip in pain and yanked her hand away. Staring at Steve, he was stammering, searching for words. “I…of course he is, I mean look at him, look-“ 

But Steve just shook his head, making his way to the altar. The carpet felt soft under his feet and he had to stifle an urge to laugh – he was dreading this day so much, avoiding it like the plague, and yet joining Nancy at the altar now felt like the most natural thing in the world. It was almost liberating, saving her from a monster that for once wasn’t their forced marriage. 

“Look at what, Jason?” he stretched his words, enunciating and raising his voice so everyone in the church could hear him. “Please enlighten me. Or maybe some of you esteemed guests can!” He turned around and addressed the wedding guests, taking in their faces – Ted Wheeler’s pasty face, trembling in silent rage, confusion in others, fear…but only one face showed what he was looking for. 

Karen Wheeler was clutching her purse so tight her baby blue nails made tiny indents in them, but her mouth was open. She couldn’t hide the horror of the growing realization about who her daughter was to marry. 

Steve smiled at her, motioned for her to speak up. “Tell me, Mrs. Wheeler. When you look at Eddie Munson, the man standing there – sure, he might look a bit tired, maybe pale, but would your immediate thought be…this man is dead?”

She shook her head slowly and Steve didn’t have to look behind him to sense the pride that was swelling from Nancy. The women of this family were strong, after all. “Absolutely not,” she answered, voice loud and clear. “Not unless…I already knew he was dead.” Her eyes bore into Jason, accusing him. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler. My thoughts exactly.” Steve turned back to the guests and extended his hand towards Eddie in a silent plea to join him. “You see, Jason is right. Eddie is dead. As in no heartbeat but still moving, reanimated dead. He’d be able to describe it more eloquently, maybe even present it in a rather disturbing way. But Jason couldn’t have known that – Eddie was assaulted about a year ago and left for dead, buried in a shallow grave…”

That was the first time Steve’s voice faltered, the anger, sadness and injustice of it all squeezing his throat, but Eddie’s cool hand was there again, rejoining him and grounding him as he went on. 

“A shallow grave a short walk from here, in the woods. There was no headstone to see, no indication what happened. As far as everyone knew, Eddie just left one day. And it was so convenient to believe that he ran away after all the rumors about Chrissy Cunningham, about his assumed role in her disappearance. Even if his uncle knew Eddie would never leave his guitar, his beloved books, hell, especially him. He wouldn’t leave Wayne Munson behind, not without a goodbye. But if you asked, someone had an answer…a convenient witness who saw Eddie leave the town.” 

Steve turned to Hopper who stood there with his usual unreadable expression, frowning at the guests and at the world. “Chief. Can you please confirm for all of us here who informed you that Eddie left the town, that he wasn’t missing?” 

Hopper stayed quiet for a moment, fingers pushed behind his belt as he considered his answer. “It was Andy…Andrew Conner,” he said gruffly, stabbing Jason with a sharp glare – Jason, who was still grasping what was happening. 

And there it was, the final discrepancy. Nodding, Steve addressed the guests again. “There you have it. The only reason why Eddie Munson wasn’t considered missing was the word of a single young man…a young man who happens to be Jason’s close friend. And yet, before even seeing Eddie up close, Jason immediately believed that Eddie was the spawn of Satan, an unholy zombie or whatever he wants to call his current state. But if his best friend witnessed Eddie leaving the town, how come Jason immediately jumped to this conclusion?” 

Hopper made a sound of reluctant agreement. “Young Harrington here makes a good point. Care to explain that, Carver? Because I’ve been here for the whole shitshow and while you spouted a lot of stuff about black magic and what not, that young man doesn’t look dead to me.” 

Before Jason could respond, Patrick stood up again and pointed a finger at Eddie. “This is absurd. What reason would Jason have to kill Munson? Sure, he didn’t like him, but it’s not like he’d risk prison to get rid of him. You don’t go to jail for vermin.” 

Before anyone could answer, an unexpected sound broke the silence – Eddie started laughing, loud and unrestricted, echoing between the tall church walls. “Oh, but he had a reason,” he growled at Jason, staring daggers at him. “I didn’t really suspect him, didn’t think he had it in him. Or at least I hoped that the Hawkins’ next golden boy wouldn’t do something so utterly stupid. See, Nancy Wheeler isn’t the first woman Mr. Perfect here is about to make unhappy. Do any of you remember who used to date Chrissy Cunningham?” 

The groom grew even paler. “Don’t you dare talk about her!” 

“Oh, but I will!” Eddie uttered, and his eyes were cold, angry. “I will because she is an incredible person that never deserved what she got from you. She felt suffocated by this town, by you, by her family.”

Eddie took another step towards Jason and each word sounded like an accusation. “I know all about you, Jason. She told you about the pain she suffered under her parents, their criticism, their demands, the threat to her health that they were. She decided to confide in you because she thought you cared about her. And what did you do? You told her to be patient and understanding. You told her that this must have been their way to show love, that they were her parents after all and they would never hurt her. All the while she was starving herself for their approval. After that, she came to me for help.” 

Hopper tilted his head. “To you?” 

“Yes, to me. How bad do you think it must have been, to trust the local outcast instead of her perfect shiny boyfriend? She was afraid of everything and everyone, but the night her mother told her that she had a month to lose weight into her wedding dress when Chrissy barely ate enough to function, that was the last straw. She was so weak, so hungry. She told me that the stale cafeteria müsli bar I had in my van was the most delicious thing she’s ever had.

She knew some of my friends had moved out of Hawkins and wanted a starting point for her new life. Someone to crash with. I helped her plan everything, gave her my friend’s number and directions. I made sure I was on that bus with her, I went to Indy with her, helped her find the place. Then I went there to check on her again…because she trusted me. And I would never betray that trust.” Glaring at Jason, Eddie’s fists were clenching and unclenching as the realization sank in - that he finally found the cause for his untimely demise, his murderer. “But I never thought that you’d kill me for it, Carver.” 

Steve expected many things, most likely a fight to break out, for Carver to deny everything, maybe for Hopper to step in and arrest him for…what exactly? But the one thing he never saw coming was Carver’s hands dropping, hanging limply by his sides. What was written on his face was pure shock.

“Chrissy…Chrissy’s alive?” he whispered. 

Once again Eddie’s chuckle echoed in the church, but no matter how many times the sound was brought back, it held no joy, no amusement. It was bitter, so bitter that Steve’s insides felt like ice. “Wait. Fucking wait. I thought that all the shit you were saying about me killing Chrissy was just your way of punishing me for letting her escape your clutches. Are you really…are you telling me you really believed that I murdered her?”

Jason was sweating, shaking even more than he had been before. He looked like he was about to be sick, clutching his mouth and taking deep breaths through his nose. “What else was I supposed to think?” he whispered. “She said she’d be back the next day. You wouldn’t talk to me. She never…she never mentioned wanting to break up, how was I…”

“Of course she didn’t! She told me everything, Jason! How you shut down her attending college, for her own good of course. How you asked her parents to marry her even when she told you she wasn’t ready. And you have the fucking gall to question why she ran away instead of talking things through with a guy who bulldozed over everything she wanted? Who told her to keep starving herself to keep the peace?!”

That snapped Jason out of his stupor. “I loved her, you freak!” he shouted, his voice breaking at the last word. “As if you could ever understand that! She always understood that I wanted only the best for her, she knew it was the right choice when we discussed things. I would have made her happy! It would take only a while. We would appease her parents and she’d be free. She didn’t…she didn’t have to run away from me…”

Eddie’s anger dissipated, and he just seemed sad. Rubbing his temples, he let out a deep sigh. “Look, I can handle being murdered for doing the right thing, but being dead because you’re dumb and didn’t bother to think of other options? Because you’ve got a…murder tunnel vision? I’d be better off not knowing.” 

Jason was staring at the floor, and Steve thought he saw tears in the corners of his eyes. “I never wanted to kill you,” he whispered. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped back towards him. “What? Care to explain this,” he gestured at his own face, his body, “because how do you fucking accidentally murder someone?”

Steve could have sworn he heard Chief Hopper mutter, “yeah, that’s what I’d also like to know.” 

Still talking to the floor, Jason wrapped his arms around his middle. Cornered and finally forced to reveal the truth, he seemed much younger. “You wouldn’t talk to me! You’d always leave when I tried to question you, or you’d say that I’d better get used to Chrissy being gone because it wasn’t changing. So I thought I’d make you talk. I saw you going to those woods, and I followed you. I just wanted to knock you out. I wanted to restrain you, question you. But I…I hit you too hard. You just collapsed and…when I checked, you weren’t breathing.” 

Steve felt sick, and from the look on her face, Nancy did too. She was taking short steps away from Jason, not daring to turn around. Robin, on the other hand, was petrified. Nancy had to tug on her hand several times to make her move. 

But Jason wasn’t stopping them. He was full on crying now, sobbing into his palms. “I was so afraid. I tried to revive you, I swear. But you weren’t getting up, and I thought…I can’t get arrested, not when Chrissy’s still missing. I buried you there and told Andy I saw you leaving on that bus. He’d repeat anything I told him. I thought I’d confess once I found her, but…I never did. I couldn’t stop looking for her because if she wasn’t found, then what I did would have been for nothing. And now you’re telling me that’s exactly what it was. I killed someone for nothing.”

Apart from Jason’s lingering sobs, the church was quiet. Eddie stopped moving and stared at the stained glass window above the altar, at the tinted rays of sun that had no business looking so cheerful. “A mistake until the end,” he said flatly. “How fitting.” 

Steve barely registered the steps behind him. Chief Hopper got up from his seat and, not unkindly, grasped Jason’s arm. “That sounded like a murder confession to me, Carver. You know what that means.”

Jason nodded through his tears, meeting Hopper’s eyes with something that hadn’t been there for years - acceptance. “Yeah. I do. I’m coming with you.”

There was a sudden rush of movement from everywhere - Jason’s parents throwing themselves towards Hopper and being blocked by his officers, Karen Wheeler rushing to Nancy and Robin, Mrs. Henderson and the Sinclairs ushering all the kids outside despite their vehement protesting…it was a lot. But Steve could only concentrate on one thing - Jason Carver stopping in front of Eddie.

“For all it’s worth…I’m sorry,” he said. Glancing towards Nancy who was in a joint embrace with Robin and Karen, he added, “to both of you.” 

With his and the kids’ departure, the church finally went quiet.

Chapter Text

“So…that’s that.” 

How flat, how definite. Steve might have just solved a murder and sure, it felt fantastic and he was drunk on the victory, but it didn’t really change anything. The triumph turned into ashes in his mouth. 

Eddie was still dead. And their arrangement was done. 

The church was quiet, vacated by most of the wedding guests, but Robin and Nancy were still with them, embracing and waiting for what would happen next. 

“I…” he whispered, taking Eddie’s cold hand in his. “I’m…I’m happy you won’t be stuck down there any longer. I really am. And I’m sorry if this sounds stupid, or if I’m seeing something that’s not there.” 

Eddie bit his lip. “Steve…” 

“No, let me finish. Please.” It was almost funny. While Steve prided himself on wearing his heart on his sleeve, no matter how vulnerable it made him, he wasn’t great with words. Just a few hours ago, he had no idea how to voice what he felt. But now the words were pouring out, raw and unfiltered, and he had no intention of stopping them.

He grasped Eddie’s hand even more firmly and felt the cool metal of the ring that, in spite of his and Nancy’s family, found its way to the right person. “Having you back, even for such a short time…it made me realize I was an absolute moron when I thought I could ignore you. That I could forget you, you and your music. At first, I thought it was just an outlet, a hobby, but…I don’t think I would have fallen in love with it so deeply if it weren’t for you. I think I fell in love with music because it was a part of you.” 

Eddie’s lip was trembling, but he wasn’t letting Steve go. He interlaced his fingers with Steve’s and pulled him closer, holding their hands cradled to his chest. How could Steve not continue after that?

“I fell in love with you years ago, Eddie. It took me way too long to figure it out, but…that’s what it is,” he shrugged. “And maybe I should have kept it to myself, to let you pass peacefully. But I wanted you to know. I’m selfish like that.” 

“Selfish my ass, Harrington,” Eddie chuckled, but the sound was wet, pained. “I haven’t seen you do a single thing for yourself.”

Steve smiled at him. “Then let me show you one.” 

Slowly, giving Eddie all the time in the world to move out of the way, he kissed him. It was a brief and chaste peck on the lips. 

Eddie whimpered when Steve pulled back. Before he knew it, Steve’s arms were full of his friend, his love, as Eddie pulled him into a tight hug and buried his face into Steve’s shoulder. 

“You asshole,” he whispered. “You utter asshole. You couldn’t have done this when I was still alive, huh? You just appeared one day with your…your hair, your hands, your stupidly bright smile, made me forget I’d ever even looked at other boys, even if I had no chance with you. And now…how the fuck am I supposed to move on, huh? How am I supposed to leave?” 

Steve was stroking his back, his hair, and maybe there were some of his own tears too. “I’m so sorry,” he muttered into Eddie’s wild locks. They smelled of Steve’s shampoo. “Told you, I’m selfish. And I really didn’t want to hold you back, I swear, but it’s just…it’s impossible not to love you.” 

“Says the guy I’ve been in love with since he butchered “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” on the school piano,” Eddie snorted, but soon his smile faded away. “I think we have…what. Two days before they deliver the tape, and then it’s over for me. I thought…I really thought I’d be happy. But it feels like I’m leaving everything I love behind.” 

“Eddie-”

They barely registered the church door opening. The next sentence, however, was way more difficult to ignore. 

“Well. Good thing you probably won’t have to.” 

Steve and Eddie spun around and stared at the quiet procession from the land of the dead. It was led by Murray who did his absolute best not to limp under Alexei’s weight. Bob was by his side, holding a bunch of books. There was Benny, Nancy’s grandmother, and many others. 

Well. That wasn’t menacing at all.

“But...I signed the contract,” whispered Eddie. He was still wrapped around Steve and didn’t seem keen on leaving their embrace.. “Stupid, I didn’t even think...but I signed it. I need to move on.” 

As surprising as it was for someone without blood flow, muscles or skin, Murray’s face seemed like there was a vein twitching. “Yes, you did sign it.” But instead of finality in his voice, Steve detected...annoyance? Confusion? Definitely internal conflict. 

“...but?” asked Steve, prompting Murray to voice whatever was eating him up inside. 

“There might have been...a loophole,” he muttered between clenched teeth. “If I’m honest...I don’t know if I should be impressed or mad.” He motioned towards Bob who was proudly holding Eddie’s contract in his injured hand. “Read it. And you,” he said to Bob, “tell him what you did.”

Bob’s smile was, as always, gentle and unassuming. He briefly cleared his throat and glanced at the paper. “I, Eddie Munson, swear to move on. My conditions are: I record my music and send it to my contact, Craig in Indianapolis, with potential royalties, rights, whatever...to Wayne. When it reaches him, I can go.” He winked at Eddie and Steve as if it answered everything. 

They just stared back. 

Murray tapped his finger impatiently on the ancient tome in his arms. “And what did you do...?!” 

“Oh, right.” Bob folded the paper back into his shoulder bag, with less care than would be appropriate for such an important document. “When did you send that tape?” 

“Uh…today?” 

The soft tone of Bob’s voice carried on. “Did you check it before sending it?” 

When Steve just stared and remained quiet, a confused wrinkle on his brow, Murray growled. “Just tell him.” 

Smile still on his face, Bob shushed Murray. “I’ll do even better. I’ll show him.” He reached into his vest pocket and produced something black and tiny. It was Ozzy, grumpy and sleepy as always. Bob gently nudged his side and the bat’s wings unfurled, revealing a familiar-looking tape. 

Eddie’s mouth opened in amazement, his eyes wide and still glistening with tears. “Oh.” 

Bob grinned at him, although there was a tinge of guilt in it. “I’m afraid I decided to…how to say it best. Meddle a bit.” 

Eddie licked his lips and stared at Bob, as if he’d just handed him a winning lottery ticket. “So…it never got sent. It won’t reach him because it’s here,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. “I...I thought it was already collected on its way to Craig. You decided to swap it?!” He was laughing at the end, wiping his eyes. “Jesus H Christ, undead bureaucracy, am I right? I’m so glad I have rule-breaking friends!” 

Alexei, who had left Murray’s shoulder and was sitting perched on a nearby statue, winked at Steve. He had a hunch that Ozzy had some help opening the case. But Murray could never learn about the feathers left on Robin’s floor, or the nonexistent vein on his forehead would actually explode.

Steve still couldn’t believe his ears. It sounded too good to be true. “So...it’s that simple?” he asked cautiously. “We just...tear up the contract, you do your magic thing and Eddie will be-” 

He couldn’t bear to say it. He couldn’t say it because what if it wouldn’t work? 

Steve tried again, forcing the words through his teeth. “Didn’t you say that no one would ever ask for these spells? And that there was some horrible cost to the ones that worked?” 

Murray really seemed at the end of his rope. His bony fingers clutched the book like a lifeline. “Yeah, I said all of that. And it all stands, except...there’s a certain...peer pressure.” He spat out the words like a curse. “Eddie, congratulations. You’re the first one to get kicked out of the world of the dead. There’s even a petition.”

Eddie just blinked. “There’s a...what?” 

“A petition.” Another paper found its way into Bob’s hands, and he passed it to Eddie in barely contained triumph. “We, the inhabitants of the Hawkins section of the world of the dead, have decided that in order to rest in peace and quiet, we agree to break the unwritten law against resurrection spells.” He laid his healthy hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “No offense Eddie, we love your music so much, but if we ever have to hear you moan about an imperfect chord again or smash your forehead against piano keys, we might have to rebrand to a purgatory.” 

Eddie’s dark eyes skimmed over the signatures. There were...a lot of them. “How did you have time for this?” he asked incredulously. No way had this been completed in the short time he was upstairs. “Was that you, Bob?”

Bob laughed and shook his head. “Oh no, I’m not that persuasive.” 

Murray’s murderous stare revealed to everyone what he thought of that statement. 

“I’m serious, Eddie. I was working in the tower with Murray and Alexei. But someone else volunteered. Someone who provided invaluable help to our...revival cause.” 

Eddie of course asked who it was, who was the one that decided to give him a second shot at life, but Steve didn’t need the name. As he heard gentle steps behind him, he immediately recognized the pattern that haunted his dreams to this day. He turned towards the sound and felt breath catch in his throat. 

“Hi, Steve.” 

“Hi, Barb,” he choked out and reached towards her, pulling her into a hug. He heard Nancy’s sob near the altar and the sound of her heels. Soon the embrace wasn’t just him, it was the three of them, just like the day of that fateful pool party. 

There was a “I’m so sorry” said, but he didn’t know if it was him or Nancy. Probably both. And Barb was still smiling and stroking their backs, quietly instructing them to breathe. 

“Why can’t you come back?” whispered Nancy, and Steve was stabbed with a new thorn of guilt. In his elation of getting Eddie back, he never spared a single thought to all the people taken before their time. 

But Barb shook her head, hugging him and Nancy even closer. “I’ve never been much of a rebel,” she laughed into Nancy’s hair. “My only regret was that I never got to say goodbye to my parents, never got to tell them how much I loved them for the last time. And with Eddie coming back…well. I hope he won’t be opposed to delivering one letter?” 

Her eyes found the long-haired young man. 

“Of course. Shit, of course I won’t,” he choked out and joined their group embrace, squishing all three of them together. “I mean, I won’t mind. I will deliver anything you ask for.” 

“Thank you, Eddie.” Barb had been detached, almost shy in her life, but now she was relaxed. For the first time that Steve had known her, she seemed to be at peace. 

Nancy held on to her, gripping Barb’s sweater with white knuckles. “B-but! You had so much to live for! Still do!” 

Barb’s pale hand kept patting Nancy’s back, stroking between her shoulder blades just like she had a thousand times before, when her best friend got bullied for being too thin, when she lost an argument with her teacher despite being right, when she dared to think for the first time she might not be in love with Steve despite him being exactly what she should have wanted. The coldness didn’t dull the comfort of the gesture. 

“Nance. I know it hurts, and I’m so sorry I had to leave you. But I need to go. I’m okay with that.” She took Nancy’s face into her hands and wiped away the tears, smiling from behind her glasses. “Hey, don’t be sad. Accidents happen, it’s not fair, I know. But it was only that - an accident. You and Steve did everything you could to save me. I saw you both. You fought for me until the very end and I’m so grateful to have been loved like that.” 

She looked at Steve and, in a very non-Barb fashion, pinched his cheek. “Don’t make that face. Despite what you think, you did enough. More than enough. I might not have seen it that way directly after, but now I know. Neither of you did anything that would need forgiveness, but if it helps you…I forgive you. And I want you both to be happy.” 

She squeezed Nancy, Steve and Eddie one last time and then took a step back. “I think we’re ready to proceed here,” she smiled at Murray. 

The skeleton grumbled in annoyance, but he picked up the old grimoire. “Finally, I was getting worried my bones would turn into dust before we finish this…exceptional resurrection. Now, will the sacrifice come forward?” 

That caught Eddie’s attention. “A sacrifice? What sacrifice?” 

Murray moved to the side and so did the visiting inhabitants of the world of the dead. 

In the middle of the aisle sat Dart. He was impatiently grooming his whiskers. “That would be me. Hi again.” 

The skeleton’s bald spot was about to catch on fire. “Apparently, the tome does not specify a human sacrifice is needed,” he muttered through his teeth. “How original to think of that, Bob.”

Eddie ran to him, kneeled in front of the disinterested cat. He held Dart gently by his sides, as if he’d wanted to shake him by his shoulders.  “Oh no no. Nonono. You won’t. I can’t be responsible for someone’s death. And you…you helped me so much. I mean, you bitched a lot, but I held it together thanks to you and Ozzy. I can’t-” 

Dart pawed at Eddie’s hands, no claws. Yet. “How cute. You really think you can keep a cat from doing what he wants to do.”

“But-”

“No buts, Edward Theodore Munson.” But of course, Eddie had that wounded look that no one, not even Dart, could resist. He sighed and nudged Eddie’s knee as an apology. “How long do you think I have, huh? I can’t even jump on the counter in Benny’s bar without help. I’m going blind. I know that my time is coming. And that brutish ginger asshole is getting closer and closer to my territory.”

“What asshole?” whispered Steve to Barb. 

Barb shook her head. “The cat Dustin’s neighbors have. Garfield’s his name, if you can believe it. He’s not even fat. But he’s been getting more and more control over Dart’s street.” 

Dart disregarded them and continued. “I can just waste away and die somewhere in a ditch, or I can do something useful with what I have left. Something meaningful. But…” he dragged out, nonchalantly wrapping his tail around his front paws, “if you happen to feel slightly indebted, you can promise me this. When I return for my next life - and I will, nine lives and all that - give me a warm bed, good food and all the things that make a cat happy. It would make my departure much easier, knowing I have a good home waiting for me.” 

Eddie decided to break even more unwritten rules and lifted Dart into his arms, hugging him. “Of course. Shit, you don’t even have to ask, I’d do that even without you doing…well. This for me.” 

Dustin once told Steve that cats couldn’t smile, science said so. Still, what was on Dart’s face was definitely a smile. “I know you would, Eddie. This will be the only sentimental thing I ever say, but…I wouldn’t do this just for anyone. So be safe and make good choices before I come back to watch over you.” 

“I will.”

“Good. Now let me down so I don’t spend the rest of my life exchanging pleasantries.” 

As he walked with his fading feline grace towards Murray, Dart looked back at them one final time. “Oh, and a word of warning. If you get me a collar with one of those annoying bells, I’ll scratch you where the sun doesn’t shine. Yes, that will make for good last words. I’m ready now.” 

Steve put his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, pulling him close. “See you soon, Dart. Don’t keep us waiting.” 

Feeling Eddie’s skin turn warm again was one of the most joyful moments in Steve’s life. Kissing him properly for the first time on warm lips, through tears, mumbled confessions and shared breath, that was definitely on the list as well. Going house shopping with Eddie with the massive payout from the Carver family - yes, a permanent restraining order was a part of that deal - and seeing Eddie’s excitement (“It has air conditioning, Steve! And a proper shower! Fuck, I feel so rich!”)? That one too. 

But there was yet another moment that competed for the number one spot of instances where Steve’s heart could burst from happiness. 

It was the same day when they ruined Nancy’s wedding. Chief Hopper forced Eddie to go to a hospital for a quick check-up. “You were dead, young man,” he said and his tone allowed for no counterargument. “You’re not dying again on my watch.” 

Eddie was lying in the hospital bed, bitching and moaning about the food, the smell, the feel of the sterile sheets, the atrocious hospital gown. “Imagine this. You die. You don’t eat for a year or something. And the first food your newly resurrected tongue tastes is a hospital meatloaf. Is that the justice I deserve?! I say no!” 

Steve was way too happy to argue against his boyfriend’s misery. He just assured him that the second he got discharged, they would get dinner, his treat. They were listing all of the restaurants in Hawkins and discussing the pros and cons of each one. The meatloaf didn’t count, said Eddie, and Steve had to agree. Eddie’s first meal of his new life had to be perfect. 

There was a knock on the door. 

“Come in!” 

A nurse opened the door and announced that Eddie had a visitor. Steve knew who it was even before she could utter the name. After all, he’d snuck out to use the hospital phone the second he could. And now? He just watched with a smile so wide it hurt his cheeks how Eddie’s face lit up. He committed it all to memory; Eddie’s shaky breath, his hand - ringless for once, doctor’s orders - over his mouth in disbelief. “No way.” 

He saw a flash of flannel in the doorway. A gruff voice said: “I need no introduction, thank you, now let me see my nephew!”

Eddie suddenly didn’t mind being seen in that ugly hospital gown. He jumped out of the bed, much to the displeasure of all the machines checking his vitals, and flung himself at the older man, his words too fast and interlaced with sobs to understand. 

Wayne Munson dropped his bag and pulled Eddie into a crushing hug. 

“My boy.” 

Chapter Text

Steve was sweating under his suit. This was it, the big day, the big moment, the one thing he could absolutely not afford to mess up. More than two years in and he was about to fulfill his promise to Eddie. Yep. That was all. No big deal. 

“You know, I can feel the stress just radiating from you. Like a Cloudkill.” 

Laughing, Steve turned around and took in the sight of his most important person in the world, grinning and adjusting his own tie. His unruly hair was tied into a neat ponytail and Steve felt a wave of warmth. He looked beautiful. Healthy and happy. And most importantly, alive. 

“You are aware I barely know what that means,” he nudged Eddie’s side and swatted his hands away, making sure the tie wasn’t crooked – Eddie’s fidgeting was getting worse by the minute and if left unchecked, self-strangulation seemed likely. Not on Steve’s watch though. “Are you ready?” 

Eddie leaned in and kissed Steve, gentle and unhurried. It still seemed unreal, not living on borrowed time, getting to live and grow old together. And maybe during that time, to fulfill their dreams too. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Now come on, big boy, they’re waiting for us.” 

The last few months had been…Steve found it difficult to describe them. Moving in with Eddie and Wayne to the small house they bought with the payout from Jason’s family was nerve-wracking, but also everything he’d ever wanted. It wasn’t just another empty house, it was home; full of Eddie and Wayne’s things, their mug collection, more books than Steve could ever hope to read, and not a single ugly wallpaper in sight. 

He was in constant contact with Robin, of course, the phone bill was high but so much worth it. She and Nancy were doing well, slowly mending the rift between themselves and their families. Nancy was now wearing the ring that brought him and Eddie together, it didn’t fit Eddie anyway, and Steve was happy enough to put it in an envelope addressed to Robin with a note: This belongs to Nancy, but I wasn’t the right person to offer it. Don’t be nervous Robs, this ring brings good luck! 

And of course, they kept their promise when they found a tiny kitten meowing behind their window one day, not pitifully like kittens often do, but impatiently and with an unwavering determination. Steve didn’t even have to look to know that there was a small triangle-shaped mark near the creature’s tail. “Took you long enough,” he laughed and opened the window to welcome Dart The Second, soon to be renamed Freddy for the sharpness of his claws, into their home.

Everything was great in Steve’s world. He had a warm home, a loving boyfriend with an awesome uncle that seemed to adopt him right back, as if there were no years when Steve had avoided him. He had a pet he could spoil rotten and was finally free to pursue his passion. 

And now, he could use that passion to repay some of the love he’d received. 

They arrived on the stage together, facing painfully bright lights. As their eyes slowly got used to them, they could recognize the faces of everyone who came to support them, expected and unexpected. 

Robin and Nancy were there, cheering so loudly Steve could make out their voices in the sound explosion that had started as soon as they left the privacy of the sidelines.

Dustin and his mom, sitting right next to Karen Wheeler and Mike, all four clapping and waving at them.

Jim Hopper, looking very uncomfortable in formal wear but still dedicated to being there.

Steve even thought that he caught a glimpse of Chrissy and Eddie’s friend Gareth, leaning close to each other and almost jumping in their seats. 

But the most beautiful sight of all was Wayne Munson in the first row, clapping as if his life depended on it and smiling so wide he was almost unrecognizable. 

And next to him…

Steve’s breath hitched as he recognized his parents. His father still looked stern, but there was curiosity in his eyes that Steve had never seen before, something that seemed to say you have my attention, and wasn’t that what Steve had always wanted? Mary Harrington had a genuine smile that matched Wayne’s, clapping way more excitedly than was expected or acceptable, but Richard didn’t reprimand her for once. Time really seemed to heal some wounds and relationships.

As the cheering and clapping quieted down, Steve moved to the side and Eddie cleared his throat, taking the microphone and addressing the audience. “Thank you, everyone. Thank you so much for being here. I…uh. I practiced this speech for weeks, just ask Steve here, he probably knows it better than I do by now.” 

Steve absolutely did. 

“Just being here before you all is kind of a miracle. Well, a literal miracle. So many things had to go wrong and even more of them had to go right to bring me here, and just thinking about all of them…it’s a lot. And…as this is the first time I get to introduce my music to such a huge audience, I want to tell you about my miracles. Tell you where I’m coming from.” 

He went quiet for a second and Steve wished they were alone, that he could embrace Eddie, cradle his face and make him forget all that time spent in darkness, alone. He wished for that a lot, and no matter how much time passed, the feeling didn’t go away. If he was honest with himself, Steve didn’t want it to. He never wanted to forget how blessed he was to have this extraordinary man by his side. 

Eddie continued: “I wasn’t the sort of a kid you’d expect to get into music. Metal, maybe, and don’t get me wrong, it’s cool and I love it. But the piano and actual composing? That wasn’t in the stars for a son of a petty criminal. We often didn’t have enough to eat, so you can imagine things like music weren’t really a priority, but my wonderful mom showed me what she could in those few short years that we had together. I don’t know where and how I’d end up if my sperm donor didn’t bite off more than he could chew and go to prison. And I don’t care if it sounds cruel, getting locked up was the best thing he’s ever done for me. Because…” 

He smiled, wide and bright. “Because social workers sent me to my uncle, the most amazing man I’ve ever known. He didn’t want kids, but he took me in without a single complaint. He taught me whatever manners I have today – and if you see me holding a fork wrong or something, just know that I’m a poor student, he really tried, okay? He never gave up on me, even if everyone else did. And most of all…he’s always believed in me. It’s thanks to him that I had the courage and opportunity to follow my dreams, it’s thanks to his kindness that I get to be here today. So please, join me in appreciation of the one and only Wayne Munson, the father every kid should have.” 

The applause was deafening. Eddie and Steve joined in, cheering and pointing at Wayne who grew beet red, desperately trying to blend in with the seat. Steve saw his mother grasp Wayne’s forearm, whispering something into his ear with a happy laugh that Steve remembered from his childhood. 

As the clapping gradually faded, Eddie continued his speech. “There are so many people I want to thank today. My friends Gareth, Jeff and Dave, who all accepted me for who I was. My favorite bunch of kids who, as all kids do, hate being called kids – Dustin, Lucas, Mike, Will, El, Max and Erica. You all have taught me that I have something to give to the world,  even if it’s something as small as a Dungeons and Dragons campaign. Nancy and Robin, who went above and beyond to help me start over. Chrissy, who taught me that kindness could come from the most unexpected places. Our cat, may he be blessed with tuna fish for the rest of his days. And finally…” 

He extended his hand to Steve, waiting. Steve took it without a second of hesitation. 

He never had any doubts Eddie would go far, that his talent, creativity and drive would be recognized. What he didn’t expect was Eddie taking his hand, both literally and figuratively, and pulling him into the limelight too. After the first demo got accepted, reworked to death, and finally released to public acclaim, Eddie could have chosen anyone to be his pianist. Hell, he could have even played the pieces himself. 

But he wouldn’t. 

He always insisted on having Steve there, calling him so many different names – his good luck charm, the only person he trusted to understand the message, his own private piano virtuoso…but the one that Steve preferred was simply “love”. 

Eddie squeezed his hand tighter. “Steve Harrington. Steve, who dreamed with me, who respected me. He trusted me to teach him whatever I knew about the piano, fell in love with it as I have, and then chose to lose what was dearest to him for me and my family, to keep us safe. And when I no longer could play, he carried on my melodies, safeguarding them until I could come back. In doing so, he brought them to life in a way I never could. Steve, none of this would have been possible without you, and it will never be. Thank you.”

Eddie returned the microphone to its place and leaned in. “So, without further ado – let me thank you again for being here, it means more to me than you could ever imagine. Please, make yourself comfortable and allow me to introduce the song set that speaks about all those that I’ve just introduced and more – Second chances .” 

Steve had never felt comfortable being in the spotlight, but standing there with Eddie, with his mother’s joyful clapping, the smiles from his friends, Wayne’s poorly concealed tears…it was a lot, but also just enough. 

As he stretched his fingers and found the familiar melody, a small bat stirred behind the stage. After the performance, he’d fly to the Munson residence and update his cat friend on how it went, but for now…he would just enjoy the show. 

After all, it had been long enough in the making.