Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve,

This is a new low for me, you know that? Of course you don't. You're never going to read this.

There's this thing I do, you see, whenever I can't get someone out of my head. I write them a letter I never intend to send.

Apparently it's your turn now-

The door burst open with a loud bang that had Eddie almost falling off his bed.

“Dude!”

He scrambled to cover up the letter he'd been writing and glared at the girl entering his room – fiery red hair and freckles all over her face.

“Do you have quarters?” she asked in that way she did where the question wasn't really a question and more like a demand of a response.

“Hello, Eddie. I'm sorry for not knocking, Eddie. How are you on this fine day, Eddie?” Eddie intoned, sharp and sarcastic. “Why, I'm doing quite well, Max, thank you so much for asking.”

Max rolled her eyes hard enough that Eddie was worried they might fall right out her head. “Do you have quarters?” she demanded again, and Eddie huffed.

“Check the inside pocket of my jacket,” he said, waving a hand at his closet that was standing open and overflowing with a pile of unfolded clothes.

Max crossed the room without a word and reached for the leather jacket.

“You headed to the arcade?” Eddie asked.

Max hummed which may have been a confirmation or may have been a fuck you.

“You need a ride?”

There was the tell-tale clinking of coins that told Eddie she'd found her quarters, and she withdrew her hand, levelling him with a flat look. “No.”

And then she was gone, slamming the door back shut.

“Always a pleasure talking to you!” Eddie shouted after her. Then he sighed, turning back to his letter.

You didn't look at me on Monday. You never do. I know I don't exist to you and yours – the royalty of Hawkins high. Perhaps that's for the best. I don't think you'd like me very much.

You didn't look at me all week. You looked at Wheeler, instead. And I get it, you know. It's hard to get over someone.

You didn't look at me again today.

And now here I am, and I can't get you out of my head-

The door burst open again, and this time Eddie yelped in surprise and shock, looking up to find Billy looming in the doorway.

“Dude!” he cried out, a lot angrier this time around because his patience for Billy had always been paper-thin at best. “What the hell is it with you people and not knocking?”

Predictably, Billy did not look like he cared for Eddie's protests in the slightest. “You seen Maxine?”

Careful to not draw too much attention to the letter, Eddie folded it and put it aside. “Her name is Max.” Because she hated to be called Maxine, just like Eddie hated to be called Edward. It wasn't like it was hard to respect that. Basic fucking decency, really, of which Billy had none.

“Have you,” he said, very slowly and very threatening, “Seen Maxine?”

Eddie was honestly just waiting for the day Billy skipped the niceties and went straight for a fist to Eddie's face. He was prepared for it, anyway, had decided, if it was going to happen, he wouldn't be taking it lying down, just as he’d decided he wasn't going to throw the first punch. It was that last decision he almost regretted now.

“She went to the arcade.”

Billy cursed under his breath, clenching and unclenching his fist a few times where it hung by his side. “Bitch took my money.”

Eyebrows arched, Eddie clenched his own fists. “That bitch is your sister, so maybe you could be a little nicer to her.”

“Half-sister,” Billy hissed, the way he always did if someone got his relationship to Max wrong.

Eddie waved him off, not all that interested in the nitty-gritty details. They were all siblings in one way or another, as far as he was concerned,

“My point still stands.”

Billy sneered at him. It was an ugly thing, full of rage and disgust and cruelty, but Eddie hadn't spent the majority of his 19 years on this here god's green earth being hated for nothing. He met Billy's stare dead on, his face blank.

Billy looked away first. “Whatever.”

And then Billy was gone as well, though unlike Max, he left the door wide open, because he was an asshole.

Eddie groaned, sighed, and then fought his way off the bed to close the door himself. Idly, he considered if he should invest in a lock, since some people apparently had never heard of the concept of knocking. Things had been so much easier when he'd been an only child.

Door securely shut once more, he finally settled down to finish his letter, hoping for no more interruptions.

I used to hate you, you know. Or I thought I did.

Steve Harrington. All-American golden boy. Rich and handsome and popular. You always seemed to have it so easy, like things were just given to you, no problems, no questions asked.

I guess I was a little jealous.

I guess I found it a little unfair.

I guess I thought why him? What makes him so special?

I don't think like that anymore.

You don't look at me, but I've been looking at you. I've been looking at you a lot.

I look at you and I see someone who is lonely, someone who is sad, someone who is lost.

What happened to you?

I remember, this time last year – I wasn't looking at you yet, back then, but I still saw you – you had Wheeler hanging from your arm and Hagan and Perkins in your shadow. You don't hang out with them anymore. You look at Wheeler now and Hagan and Perkins look at you and all of you look lonely and sad and lost.

What happened to you?

There's rumours, of course. There always are. People say a lot of things when they're bored.

They say Wheeler cheated on you. They say you and Hagan got into a fight. They say you lost your touch, that King Steve has fallen from grace.

Are you a king, Steve? Were you ever? Or are you just a guy trying to survive, like the rest of us.

I used to hate you, just a little bit. I think I was wrong.

And now I can't stop thinking about you.

I wonder what changed.

I will put this letter away now. You're never going to read it, but I will. I will read it again and again and again, never getting any answers, but that's okay.

Yours, from a distance,

Eddie

Listen: Eddie hadn't planned to fail his senior year.

Were he to name the moment where it had all started to go belly-up, he would have picked last Christmas. Or rather, the day before last Christmas. Back when it had still been just him and Wayne, back when he'd still been passing.

School had been out and, sure, his grades hadn't been amazing, not anywhere near the levels they had been in middle school and the first half of high school. Wasted potential, some teachers kept saying with increasing levels of frustration and disappointment. There'd been a deadline or two that had kind of sneaked up on him, that one essay he knew he'd written but that must have grown legs between the trailer and the school, Ms. O'Donnell who had it out for him specifically because she never failed to find an excuse to give him detention, no matter how flimsy. But he'd been passing.

Eddie remembered, the day of the beginning of the end, he'd been sitting in his room, listlessly strumming his guitar, when good old Al Munson had called. He did that sometimes. Every once in a while daddy dearest would call and say he was in a tight spot – “I just need something to get me back on my feet,” he'd say, and, “I'll pay you back.” And after falling for it three times in a row Eddie had drawn the proverbial line in the proverbial sand and sworn to himself no more.

Except Al hadn't asked for money.

“I'm not asking for money,” he'd said to Eddie, and it was then that Eddie should have known for sure that something was wrong because there'd been an edge to Al's voice that Eddie had never heard before. Something manic.

“What do you want?” Eddie had asked.

“To talk to my son. Is that such a bad thing?” The question had been a rhetorical one, of course, and Eddie hadn't dignified it with a response. “I'll be in your neck of the woods tomorrow. Let's spent Christmas together. Just us. Let's call it repayment for all the Christmases I've missed.”

And Eddie, fool that he was, though he hadn't yet considered himself as such, had agreed.

They'd met up in Indianapolis, a nice apartment that Al had insisted was his while Eddie had pretended not to see the family picture on the wall of people he didn't know or the calender stuck to the fridge that had informed him the real residents had been on holiday in Australia. And they'd eaten the food in the fridge and drunk the fancy bourbon in the pantry and watched reruns of Law & Order and Eddie had allowed himself to enjoy the familiarity of it all, like nothing had ever changed, like they were a normal family living a normal life. Then they'd moved on. From Indianapolis to Chicago to Detroit, revisiting all their old stomping grounds, a trip down memory lane to way back when things had been so much simpler.

It had felt like goodbye.

“This feels like a goodbye,” he'd said one night, three sheets to the wind and sagged into the corner booth of the strip club Al had dragged him to, not at all interested in the show but grateful for the open tab.

And Al had laughed and downed his own drink and clapped Eddie on the shoulder and said, “This is only the beginning, son.” And then he'd excused himself to get a private lap dance from one of the girls and Eddie had continued his own quest of getting blackout drunk.

He should have known something was wrong.

The grand reunion tour had finally reached it's grand finale on New Year's Eve – Cleveland, Ohio, a seedy backroom in a seedy bar and a high stakes poker game of questionable legality.

“You'll be my lucky charm,” Al had said with a look in his eyes that had promised trouble.

Several hours and a couple hundred thousand dollars later, the cops had marched in guns blazing, arresting everybody present, including Eddie, while Al had made off with his winnings and his stolen car. The only reason Eddie had been slapped with a measly 6 months in juvie instead of trying him as the adult he had almost already been, had been because the judge had clearly felt sorry for him, spouting some bullshit about second chances and breaking the cycle.

Bottom line – no graduation for Eddie.

What he hadn't known at the time was that Al had driven his winnings and his stolen car all the way to California to the residence of one Susan Mayfield. And then Al and Susan had packed their bags and fucked off to Mexico together, leaving behind two children and a single note taped to the fridge with Wayne's name and address written on it.

There was a shoebox under Eddie's bed that contained all the things he wanted to keep hidden. Cliche, but if it ain't broke and all that. Technically, there were many shoeboxes, all painstakingly decorated with stickers and doodles, but this one particular shoebox was the one it had all started with. The others had come later as a diversion. This particular shoebox however held the key to his downfall if anyone were to ever find it.

Usually, it sat under the bed, pushed back as far as it would go, with a healthy layer of old comics and music magazines for good measure. Inside, were also some magazines, but the incriminating kind with naked men spread across the pages, alongside Eddie's personal stash of weed, and the letters. There was five of them now – one for Chrissy Cunningham, one for Jeff Best, one for Dominic Morrissey, one for Kevin Keegan, and finally, one for Steve fucking Harrington, Eddie's new low. Whenever he had to add another one, it felt like defeat, like he'd lost a game against himself, like his heart had cheated him out of the little peace he could only ever achieve.

Currently, the shoebox was in Eddie's lap, the lid lying next to him on the floor, and Harrington's letter neatly folded in his hand. The idea was to get over his misplaced feelings by putting them down on the paper, getting them out of his head, but it never quite worked like that unfortunately, and Eddie knew he'd be chewing on this particular crush for the foreseeable future. Carefully, he placed Harrington's letter into the box with the others, never to be seen again.

Then, there was a knock on his door and he quickly replaced the lid on the box, haphazardly shoving it under the bed behind his back.

“Come in, Wayne,” he called out, because there was only ever one person who actually bothered to ask permission to enter his room.

The door opened and his uncle stuck his head inside, barely even blinking at seeing Eddie on the floor instead of the bed.

“I'm headed off to work now,” he said, “There's dinner on the stove.”

“Thanks.”

“You seen Max and Billy?”

“Max went to the arcade, no idea where Billy is.”

Wayne nodded. “You let them about dinner when you see them, alright?”

“Alright.”

“I'll be back in the morning.”

Eddie flashed a small smile at his uncle, not for the first time overcome by gratitude to have him in his life. “Have a good shift.”

With another final nod, Wayne closed the door again and a moment later, Eddie could hear him step outside the trailer, followed by the whirring of the old truck coming to life.

Ever since Max and Billy had come to live with them, Wayne had been working twice as hard to bring money in since he was now paying rent and bills for two trailers and feeding four mouths instead of two. Eddie tried to help where he could, picking up his own shifts as Thacher Tyres whenever they needed a hand and doubling his dealing at school and parties, even though Wayne kept telling him that he didn't need to contribute – “your only job is getting through school, son,” he always told Eddie and yet he never outright declined the money Eddie pushed his way because truth of the matter was, they needed it.

There was a party on this very night, actually. Tommy Hagan, one of Harrington's old friends, was turning 18. He'd invited half the school to his house and he'd told Eddie, in no uncertain terms, to be there and to bring the goods, as he'd put it. Loath as Eddie was to admit it, he was kind of looking forward to it. Not the party itself which was sure to be as miserable as it's host, but Hagan and his friends had money to spend and they were sure to want to spend it on a good high, which Eddie could provide. If tonight went well, they probably wouldn't have to worry about having food on the table for a while.

With a final sigh, Eddie pushed himself up and off the floor, shuffling into the kitchen for some dinner. He supposed he should probably swing by the arcade to check if Max needed a ride home before he made his way to Loch Nora. God only knew Billy wasn't going to drive her.

Sometimes, Eddie wondered why Billy had even bothered to get them both from California to Indiana. As far as Eddie could see Billy hated his sister – half-sister – and would have had no problem leaving her for dead. Except here they were. And Eddie was glad for it. He really was. Sure, Max didn't seem to like him all that much, but then, Max didn't seem to like anyone all that much, too caught up in her own anger, and Eddie didn't blame her. He remembered what it was like, being that angry all the time.

They had a lot in common, he and Max did. More than a dead-beat dad, anyway. He just wished she'd give him a chance to show her that.

Once he'd scarfed down a bowl of veggie chilli and double-checked that his lunchbox was equipped with enough to keep the elite of Hawkins High happy for a night, he switched off all the lights on the trailer and climbed into his van, headed to the arcade.

How that place was still standing, Eddie didn't know. Most kids in town preferred to do literally anything else that wasn't standing in the perpetually greasy air of the Palace Arcade and yet, year on year, the arcade prevailed. Secretly, Eddie wouldn't be surprised if the whole thing was money laundering scheme.

He parked his van across the street, fighting for a moment with the keys in the ignition before getting out. This time of day, there wasn't much traffic or even people around, everyone probably holed up in their own homes, eating dinner or watching TV. The kid working the counter of the arcade eyed him suspiciously when he entered, but said nothing.

“Max?” Eddie called out, looking around the mostly empty room. There was two boys standing in the corner, both looking up at Eddie's voice, and Eddie vaguely thought he recognised them as Nancy Wheeler's and Jonathan Byers’s younger brothers. There was two other boys farther down that Eddie didn't recognise – one tall and dark-skinned, the other shorter with unruly curls atop his head – and there with them, scowling and glowering and rolling her eyes, was Max.

“Max!” Eddie called out again.

Her face only darkened when she spotted him, bodily pushing past the two boys to stalk closer to Eddie.

“What are you doing here.” Again, not so much a question as a demand for an answer.

Eddie raised his hands in surrender. “Just checking if you need a ride home.”

Max arched a single eyebrow at him. “I can skate.”

“Sure you can,” Eddie agreed readily enough. “But I'm here now, so.” He shrugged, raising his own eyebrow, his gaze travelling from Max to the two boys who were now watching them with something like suspicion. “Who are your new friends?”

Max scoffed. It was an impressively derisive thing. “Not my friends,” she said with a glare over her shoulders at the boys.

“They're not bothering you, are they?”

This time, Max barked out a laugh, loud and sudden and gone just as quickly as it had arrived as she took in the concern on Eddie's face. “Oh. You're serious,” she said in disbelief. “No, they're not bothering me, Jesus Christ.” As if the thought of it, the mere possibility of it, was somehow insulting to Max.

She marched past him, then, towards the door, stopping only when she was already almost outside. “Are you giving me a ride or what?”

Eddie took only a moment to look at the boys once more, meeting their gazes head on, trying to figure out what their deal was. Then, he followed Max.

She was already waiting impatiently by the van, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her skateboard sticking out of the top. There was a few seconds where she hadn't yet realised that Eddie was there, her face for once relaxed and her eyes filled with so much sadness. Then she did notice Eddie and the familiar mask of contempt slid firmly back into place.

Eddie sighed, just a little, before crossing the street and unlocking the van. He climbed inside, waiting for Max to do the same.

“Seatbelt,” he reminded her, earning himself an eye roll. “So,” he prompted once he'd started the car, making sure to drive a little more carefully now that he had a live passenger.

“So?” Max echoed him mockingly.

“So,” Eddie repeated because he knew it would annoy her. “You're not friends but they're also not bothering you.”

“What?” Max asked.

“Those boys back there,” Eddie elaborated, “You said you're not friends, but they weren't bothering you.” He glanced at Max, taking in her stony expression and her crossed arms.

“Yeah? What of it?”

Eddie licked his lips, proceeding carefully. “Would you want to be friends with them?”

“What's it to you?”

“Uhh, I'm your brother?”

“Half-brother.”

“Semantics,” said Eddie with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You go to the same school, right?”

They'd looked around that age, anyway, and Hawkins only had the one middle school, so it wasn't too hard to figure out.

“Yeah, maybe we do,” Max grumbled.

“So.” Eddie drew the word out, nudging Max with her elbow just a little bit, aiming for light-hearted. “Would you wanna be friends with them?”

For a while, Max said nothing. Then, “They're annoying.” Which didn't exactly answer the question, but Eddie decided not to push.

“Alright. Let me know if you ever want a ride again. Or. You know. If they do start bothering you. I'll put the fear of Munson in them.”

He chanced another glance to his right. Max was still stonewalling him, and yet he thought he could spot the tiniest twitch of her lips as she suppressed a smile.

He counted that as a win.

I know how you're feeling, he wanted to say, I know what you're going through.

I know you're angry, he wanted to say, I was angry too.

I know you're hurting, he wanted to say, I can help you if just let me.

But he didn't say any of that. Instead, he gestured at the glovebox.

“Give us some tunes, would ya?”

With a huff, Max reached out and started rifling through the cassettes until she settled on one and popped it in. The sweet, sweet sound of an electric guitar filled the silence of the van and Eddie relaxed into it.

Wayne had told him a few times now that Max just needed some time, that she'd come around, that the way he treated her now would be what she remembered him for. And the thing was, Eddie knew he was right.

He remembered perfectly how patient Wayne had been with him, in the beginning. How kind. How there hadn't been any pressure, just a steady presence and the reassurance that Wayne was there and he wasn't going anywhere.

Eddie could wait, he decided, if it meant Max remembered him the same way he remembered Wayne.

He pulled into the trailer park, waving a greeting hand at old Ms. Cooper and parked outside Max's and Billy's trailer which stood right across from Eddie's and Wayne's.

“There's dinner on our stove,” he told Max. “I'll be out for a bit but I should be back around midnight, alright?”

Max gave a non-committal hum, not really looking at Eddie.

“Hey.” Without really thinking about it, he reached out, putting his hand on her arm. “You gonna be okay here on your own? I can stay if you want.” Fuck Tommy Hagan and his stupid party. If Max wanted him to stay, he'd stay.

“I don't need a babysitter,” she snapped, unbuckling her seatbelt and pulling her backpack into her lap, no doubt ready to get out of the van.

“Never said you did,” Eddie said placatingly. “But if you wanted company -”

“I don't,” Max cut in, sharp and scathing. “Just go.”

Eddie sighed. “Alright. But don't forget to eat, okay? And I'll check in when I'm back later.”

“Whatever.” And then Max pushed the door open and hopped outside, backpack slamming into her back. She closed the door shut, not looking back once as she entered her trailer.

Eddie sighed again.

He could wait.

Tommy Hagan's 18th birthday party was exactly what Eddie had expected it to be – the crowd was rowdy, the music predictable, and the drinks plenty.

Eddie had set up shop in the far back corner of the garden and word had gotten around quickly about his presence. He'd given Hagan his obligatory birthday discount on a baggie of weed and then proceeded to upcharge every other poor fucker who came crawling his way.

No one complained. Eddie wasn't proud of it, but he knew that some people were a little scared of him, that he had a reputation. He played into it, played it up for his audience, played the role they'd cast him into and in return they left him alone. It was a fair deal, as far as Eddie was concerned, and it mostly extended to his friends as well – Gareth hadn't been beaten up once since Eddie had taken him under his wing halfway through last term.

Some twitchy former student who probably shouldn't be hanging out with a bunch of current students had just handed Eddie a wad of cash in exchange for some acid and was now slinking back into the shadows, when Eddie caught sight of Jason Carver. Carver was a junior who acted like a senior. Carver was also, it had to be said, a fucking prick; far too hoity-toity to ever be caught dead with something as scandalous as illicit substances, but not enough to stay away from the drink too. He was one too many beers over his limit, Eddie guessed, because his hands were pawing all over Chrissy Cunningham despite her visible discomfort. He was talking and laughing with his two cronies Andy and Patrick. The three of them would no doubt be ruling the school come next year. That's always how it went.

The king is dead. Long live the king.

Hagan came back for seconds, throwing up a stink when Eddie refused to give him another discount – “I'm running a business, Hagan, not a charity” – and then stormed off to make out with his own girlfriend. That's when Eddie saw him – Billy.

His half-sister’s half-brother was prancing through the garden without a shirt on, turning the heads of half the girls, and throwing smarmy winks at the other half. He was headed straight for Eddie.

Eddie sighed. “And what do you want?” he asked, making sure to sound as unhappy to see him as possible.

Billy stopped right in front of Eddie and from this close he could smell the disgusting Axe spray Billy was always wearing and the beer he’d been drinking.

“What do you have?”

With a roll of his eyes, Eddie opened his lunchbox and flipped it around so Billy could see inside. He was smiling but there was something unsettling to it, something wrong.

Eddie realised his mistake a second too late.

With a level of nonchalance and confidence that was almost impressive, Billy reached into the box and fished out a baggie of weed, holding it up in the air.

“How much?”

“35.”

Billy scoffed. “Let's call it a family discount, shall we?” he said and made to pocket the weed.

Eddie snatched it back. “Let's not,” he said, just about keeping his voice even, “Considering this -” He waved at the box, the drugs, the party “- is going towards your food and your bills and your rent.”

Another scoff, though underneath Eddie thought he could almost see something like shame, like guilt, like embarrassment. Then it was gone, replaced by the all-too-familiar anger. “I don't need your fucking charity, Munson.”

Eddie's eyebrows rose up high. “It's real cute that you think I care enough to do this for you.”

It took a moment for Billy's alcohol addled brain to catch up but it must have eventually. “Really?” he asked. “You're doing this for Maxine?”

“Her name,” Eddie gritted out through his teeth, “Is Max.”

“Whatever.” Billy rolled his eyes, looking, for a moment, scarily alike to his little half-sister. Eddie thought, if he pointed it out, Billy might actually punch him. He reached into the pocket of his jeans, there were beer stains along the waistband. He pulled out some cash, throwing it on the table and snatching the weed back from Eddie's hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Hargrove,” Eddie said, flashing a sharp smile and quickly counting the money before placing it into his own pocket.

Billy stormed off without another word, probably to get high.

Eddie was glad to see him go.

There was a couple more deals, more painfully mediocre music that kind of made him want to rip his ears off, and a staring contest with Carver that Eddie won by throwing kisses at Carver which some people may have considered cheating but which Eddie held was just good strategy. By the time it hit midnight, he had a headache and was painfully sober since he still had to drive home.

“Shop's closed,” he said to one of the cheerleaders trying to score something or other for herself and her friends, and he quickly collected his shit before leaving his spot.

Inside the house was worse than outside – the music was a lot louder, two couples were dry-humping on the couch, and one of the basketball stars was throwing up in Mrs. Hagan's orchids. Eddie ignored all of it as he walked past, following the call of nature before he'd head home for the night. Of course, the downstairs toilet was occupied. Taking the steps two at a time, Eddie went upstairs, but found the second bathroom equally locked, faint sounds of moaning sounding through the wood.

Fucking heathens, the lot of them.

With a sigh, Eddie turned to the other doors along the hallway, reckoning that, a house like Hagan's, there had to be one of those fancy en-suites somewhere.

The first door he tried was a bust, as was the second. Behind the third door was, in fact, a bedroom, but also two writhing bodies on the bed and Eddie quickly shut the door again before he saw anything he wouldn't be able to unsee. Finally, the door at the end revealed what had to be the master bedroom – opulent and decadent and ugly as hell. There was the largest bed Eddie had ever seen sitting on the centre of the room, one wall entirely taken up by a massive wardrobe with floor to ceiling mirrors.

There was also someone here. But just the one. And he wasn't making any sounds or movements.

“Hargrove?” Eddie asked, squinting in the half-darkness, the only light coming one of the bedside table lamps and the hallway behind Eddie's back.

Billy was standing by a chest of drawers, the top drawer open, and in his hand he was holding what looked like a golden watch.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Billy recovered quickly from his shock at Eddie's entry and slid the watch into his pocket, rounding in on Eddie. “The fuck are you doing?” he countered, giving Eddie a light shove against his shoulders that had him backing away. “Are you following me now?”

“Looking to have a piss, actually,” said Eddie, refusing to be intimidated. “Why, you wanna join me?”

Something like disgust flashed over Billy's face, then, and for a second Eddie was worried that he'd finally pushed too far. Billy didn't punch him, though, simply spat at Eddie's feet and made sure to shoulder-check him as he walked away.

Eddie sighed, went into the adjourning bathroom to empty his bladder, and then fought his way back through the crowd until he'd reached the front door.

It was time to go home.

Despite the late hour, there was still a light on in Max's trailer when Eddie arrived. He knocked on her door.

Max opened almost immediately, her eyes wide and her face free of her usual scowl. Then, she caught sight of Eddie, and frowned. “Oh,” she said flatly. “It's you.”

“Expecting someone else?” asked Eddie, pushing his way inside.

This trailer was the same as Wayne's – one bedroom, one bathroom, one main room. He could see clothes that had to belong to Billy piling up at the foot of the couch and a pillow and a couple blankets at the head, could see empty beer bottles lining the wall on the wobbly dining table, could see a bowl of soggy, half-eaten cornflakes on the coffee table.

“Billy forgets his keys sometimes,” Max answered, shutting and locking the door again, “And I'm not gonna leave the door unlocked after dark.”

Eddie nodded in approval. “Very sensible.” He looked around once more – the couch was very clearly Billy's territory, and it felt wrong to take over the armchair – and sat his ass down on the floor to peer up at Max. Even here in her own home, she still didn't relax, still didn't quite let go of the tension in her shoulders. Her eyes kept flickering to the window.

“Have you eaten?” Eddie asked.

Predictably, Max rolled her eyes. “How many times, I don't need a babysitter -”

“I'm not trying to babysit you, kid, I'm just looking out for my sister.”

“Half-sister.”

“Whatever,” Eddie dismissed her protest, the way he always did. “So, have you? Eaten?”

“Yes, mum,” Max said with a sigh and Eddie gave her another nod.

With another glance at the window, Max settled into the armchair, legs pulled under her body and arms firmly crossed. She didn't tell him to get lost, though, so Eddie took that as permission to stay, at least for now.

“How are getting along, anyway?” Eddie asked.

“What?”

“You and Billy. How are you getting along? I know it's not ideal, the two of you basically living on your own, so -”

“It's fine,” Max said curtly. “He mostly ignores me, anyway. Unless he's pissed at me. Or drunk.”

And the thing was, Eddie was more than familiar with that kind of being ignored, the kind where he didn't exist unless it was to take the blame for something. And it wasn't fair that Max knew it too. She was too young.

“Offer to switch still stands, you know,” he said, even though he knew Max wouldn't accept it. “You move in with Wayne, I stay here with Billy.”

As expected, Max scoffed. “You'd kill each other within a week.”

Better me than you, Eddie thought but didn't say.

“How about just for tonight, then?” he instead suggested. “It's late and we both need our beauty sleep. You take my bed, I take the couch. Wayne won't be back until morning.”

Max seemed to consider him and his words for a moment, no longer quite as hostile, but not entirely open either.

“I don't know if Billy has his keys,” she muttered, lowering her gaze.

“Billy's an adult,” Eddie said gently. “He'll be fine for one night. And if he gives you shit for this, I take full responsibility, okay?”

There was another moment of silence and now that he was looking for it, Eddie could see the exhaustion on Max's face, like she was fighting to stay awake. And who even knew of Billy was coming home tonight at all, anyway. He'd been pretty drunk back at Hagan's, too drunk to drive for sure.

“Alright,” Max eventually agreed, small and unsure, still not meeting Eddie's eyes.

Eddie smiled widely and pushed himself up to his feet. “Come along, then,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Your bed awaits.”

Max rolled her eyes again, but said nothing, instead following him outside and across the way to the other other trailer. She said nothing as she waited for Eddie to prepare the bed for her, as she climbed under the covers, as Eddie hovered in the door for a moment longer.

“Eddie?” came Max's voice from the warm safety of the bed.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.”

Eddie smiled again even though she probably couldn't see it and turned off the lights. “Good night, Max.”

“Night.”

He closed the bedroom door gently and patted towards the couch on light feet. It was going on 2 o'clock now and he even though he knew he'd be regretting it later, he wasn't feeling all that tired just yet. He turned on the little lamp on the shelf in the corner, poured himself a glass of water, and sat down on the couch with a cigarette between his lips, staring at the window.

Eddie woke up to stiff limbs and a stinging pain in his neck. It was still early, he knew, because Wayne wasn't back yet, but he didn't think he'd be able to go back to sleep.

The trailer park, even at it's quietest, was loud – there was always someone coming or going, music filtering through the paper-thin walls, dogs and cats and racoons fighting over scraps behind bins, some couple fighting and another couple fucking. It was a cacophony of noise that had been the background melody to Eddie's life for the past five years. And now, at the crack of dawn, it sang the same song it always sang. Just from listening, Eddie knew that the baby three trailers down was crying again because old Ms. Cooper was playing her classical music at a volume to entertain all of Forest Hills, knew that Harry was leaving for work because his piece of shit Ford was making sounds that Eddie would have loved to record for one of his band's songs because of how haunting it sounded, knew that someone had recently taken out the bins because the local wildlife was participating in survival of the fittest again.

The familiar soundscape was soothing, comforting, and Eddie allowed himself to simply exist in it for a moment, before dragging himself up to his feet and towards the coffee maker.

Once that was done, he took his coffee and his cigarettes and stepped outside to sit on the old sofa on the porch, the sun carefully peeking over the roofs of the trailer. It was already getting warm again, and Eddie sprawled out a little, enjoying the laziness of it all. His gaze did wander over to Max and Billy's trailer but it looked as empty as they'd left it, and Billy's car wasn't parked outside.

Eddie sat and drank his coffee and smoked his cigarette, and when he was done he went back inside for seconds and repeated the whole process.

By the time his second cup was empty, the trailer park had fully come to life around him and he knew it wouldn't be long now before Wayne got home.

Max was still asleep, though. Eddie carefully peeked into his room, spotting her crown of red hair spread out over his pillow and listened to her careful, even breathing. He knew she'd snap at him if she ever caught him watching her sleep, knew she'd call him all kinds of names and insist over and over again that she was fine. The thought made Eddie smile a little. And he would have probably stayed like that a while longer, simply standing in the doorway of his bedroom, looking at his little sister, and feeling grateful that she apparently trusted him at least enough to sleep the way she did, if it wasn't for the tell-tale sounds of Wayne's truck puttering down the path outside until it came to a stop outside the trailer.

Eddie gently closed the bedroom and poured his uncle a cup of coffee, meeting him outside.

If Wayne was surprised to see him up so early, he didn't say so, simply grunted his thanks and together they sat on the porch.

“Good night?” Wayne asked.

Eddie hummed in confirmation. “Got back just after midnight, checked on Max. She’s still asleep.” He waved a hand into the vague direction of his bedroom to show his meaning.

Wayne's eyes followed the gesture, a slight frown on his forehead. Then, he looked over at the other trailer. “Billy not here?”

“I don't think so. He was at the party last night as well. Got pretty drunk.”

Wayne Munson, to a casual observer, may have looked like a stern and stoic man, rough hands and rough edges, and he was, but underneath was a kindness Eddie had never seen anywhere else. It had bothered him, at first, how much Wayne could look like Al, with his frown and his grumbling. The difference lay in his smile and his laugh and the lines on his face, not from bitterness, but joy.

All that was not to say that Wayne couldn't ever be displeased or upset.

He was frowning and making little grunting noises under his breath and there was a very specific, very distasteful curl to his lips as their wrapped around the filter of his smoke. But since it wasn't Eddie Wayne was upset with, he wasn't all that worried.

Wayne said nothing else on the topic though, simply drank his coffee and smoked his cigarette and kept his thoughts to himself.

“Max doing alright?” he asked eventually.

Eddie shrugged. “Think so. Not that she'd tell me if she wasn't.” He hadn't meant for it to sound bitter, but it came through anyway, and Wayne shit him a sharp look.

“You just gotta -”

“Give her some time, I know,” Eddie finished the sentence for his uncle. “I just – I just wanna be there for her.”

Wayne's hand, rough from years and years of work, closed around Eddie's shoulder, gentle but firm. “You're a good kid, Ed. She'll come around.”

And speaking of the devil, faintly Eddie could hear signs of life from inside the trailer, steps on creaky floor, the bathroom door opening and closing, water running through the pipes.

Max was awake.

In mutual, silent agreement, he and Wayne dropped their cigarettes into the bucket they used as a makeshift outside ashtray and went inside, just as Max exited the bathroom, hair in disarray and sleep still clinging to the corners of her eyes.

“Morning,” Wayne greeted her.

Max gave a non-committal grunt, filling a glass of water at the sink and chugging it in one go.

“You sleep okay?” asked Eddie.

“Fine.”

Max was not a morning person.

Wayne muttered something under his breath about taking a shower, and Eddie took the chance to change out of his PJs and into some proper clothes since he'd be meeting the band later for practice. Max remained in the main room, having updated from drinking water to drinking orange juice straight from the carton.

When Eddie returned, now dressed in his usual attire of ripped jeans and a threadbare band shirt with the sleeves cut off, it was to a knock on the front door.

It wasn't a friendly knock.

Eddie and Max exchanged quick looks before Eddie stepped up to the window, from this angle, he couldn't see who was at the door, but he had a clear view of Billy's and Max's trailer.

Billy's car still wasn't back.

The knock came again, an angry fist pounding against the door, followed by equally angry voice shouting out, “Open up, Munson, I know you're in there!”

Eddie frowned at the vaguely familiar voice of Tommy Hagan and went to open the door.

Indeed, there Hagan stood, uncomfortably close, a few inches shorter than Eddie, and his face bright red from rage.

“Where is it?” he hissed, before Eddie so much as a chance to say anything.

“Where is what?” Eddie asked slowly, unsure what was even happening at the moment.

“Where is it, Munson?” Hagan asked again, more agitated now, his fists firmly clenched at his side. “I know you took it. What? You think we wouldn't notice?”

“Dude.” Gently but firmly, Eddie placed a hand on Hagan's chest and pushed him a little bit to create some much needed distance. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The watch!” Hagan shouted. “The fucking watch, Munson! I know you took it!”

Distantly, Eddie remembered the upstairs bedroom, and he remembered Billy, and remembered Billy slipping a watch into his pocket.

“You think I stole from you,” Eddie clarified, not at all surprised, truth be told, that Hagan had arrived at this particular conclusion.

“Who else could have done it?”

Eddie pulled an overly contemplative face. “Oh man, I don't know? You throw a big house party, invite half the damn school? But, sure, it would only make sense if it was the guy from the trailer park, because who else could have done it, right?” He was seething just a little himself now, could feel his own heart pumping furiously in his chest. “I didn't take your watch. Now, get the hell out of here, Hagan.” And then he slammed the door in Hagan's face.

“This isn't over, Munson!” Hagan all but screamed. “I'll go to the cops! I'll prove it!”

Eddie did his best to ignore the shouting, screwing his eyes shut and slowly counting backwards from 10 in his mind.

When he opened his eyes once more, Hagan had stopped shouting and Wayne was standing in the tiny little hallway leading farther into the trailer, no doubt attracted by the noise and commotion; the buttons on his flannel were askew, he was only wearing one sock, and there was still water droplets running down his neck. In one hand, he was holding a towel, as if he could have used that to defend Eddie's honour. Knowing Wayne, though, he would have probably even found a way.

“Y'alright, son?” he asked, concern visible in the crease between his eyes.

Eddie nodded. “Fine.” He looked towards Max who looked a little spooked and pale around the nose, looked back towards Wayne who just looked like he didn't belief Eddie. “I didn't steal anything.”

“Didn't think you did,” Wayne said mildly, confidently, like it wasn't even a question at all. Then, just like that, his face smoothed over. “How 'bout we go out for breakfast? I'm starving, and y'all must be too.”

And Eddie kind of wanted to argue, kind of wanted to say something about money and how Wayne had to be tired after his shift, but the words got stuck in his throat when his eyes fell on Max and the delight on her face.

“Breakfast sounds great,” he said instead.

Wayne gave a nod. “Let me get my shoes.”

They left not long after, taking Wayne's truck. Billy's car, Eddie noted, was still notably not present.

“I call shotgun,” said Max, rushing to the passenger door.

“Excuse me? Have you never heard of respecting your elders, young lady?” asked Eddie, hands on his hips. “Wayne? Tell her!”

And because Wayne was a traitorous traitor, he simply let out a deep and dark chuckle. “She called it first, Ed. Them's the rules.”

Eddie spend the next ten minutes loudly bemoaning the betrayal he was experiencing from the backseat of the truck, the utter lack of loyalty, the backstabbing he might never fully recover from, while up front Max and Wayne exchange eye rolls and smiles and even some laughs and even though it was at Eddie's expense, he welcomed it, because it was better than Max's anger.

They got breakfast at Benny's – a sizeable stack of blueberry pancakes drenched in syrup for Eddie, and regular pancakes with a small mountain of bacon that Eddie wrinkled his nose at a little for Max and Wayne. And it was nice. Like a regular family outing.

They didn't talk about Billy or Hagan, instead Wayne updated them on all the gossip at the plant on Eddie's insistence, and Max talked about her first week in school at Wayne's insistence, and Eddie told them about the new song the band had been working on at nobody's insistence.

It was nice.

When they returned home, Billy's blue Camaro was parked in its usual spot and Max blanched a little, but Wayne simply steered her towards their trailer and told her to hang out for a little while he went to bed.

Eddie grabbed his guitar and got the van started to drive over to Gareth's for band practice.

The guys were already somewhat impatiently waiting for him, and Jeff made a show of looking at his bare wrist when Eddie climbed out of his van, as if checking a watch.

“Finally,” he said. “You're gonna be late to your own funeral, man, I swear.”

Eddie waved him off with a few muttered apologies.

“Let's just play,” Grant, ever the pragmatist, suggested, and Eddie gratefully agreed.

They played.

Corroded coffin, Eddie's pride and joy since he'd been 15 years old, was never going to make it big, Eddie knew. They had their weekly Tuesday night gig at the Hideout to a crowd of a handful of drunks, but that's as far it ever went. And that was fine. They weren't doing it for the pipe-dream of fame. They did it for the love of the music and the people and themselves.

It hadn't always been the four of them – back in the beginning, when Eddie's hair had still been shorter and he and Wayne had still been sniffing each other out, he'd met Jeff, his first friend in Hawkins. It had snowballed from there. Jeff's girlfriend at the time, Katie, had been a whiz on the drums – better than Gareth, truth be told – and her older brother, Dominic, had been in charge of the high school D&D club and shown promise on the bass. Katie and Dom had moved away last year, enter Gareth and Grant.

And Eddie was proud of them all. He really was.

They took a break after the first hour, sprawled out on the garage floor, and Eddie found himself retelling this morning's encounter with Hagan, leaving out the part where he knew exactly who'd stolen the stupid watch, because that really had nothing to do with anything.

“That's fucked, man,” Jeff commented when Eddie was finished.

“Hagan's an idiot,” Gareth tagged on, making Eddie chortle.

“I'm aware. It's not like I care all that much about what he calls me or thinks of me, anyway. He can go to the pigs, for all I care, they won't find anything, cause I didn't steal the stupid watch. What pisses me off is that he had to go and do all that in front of Max.”

“How is Max?” Jeff asked.

The guys hadn't actually met her yet, just heard Eddie's tales of woe.

Eddie shrugged. “She'll be fine. She's tough.”

“'course she is. She's a Munson. You guys are part cockroach,” Jeff said with a sharp grin, and Eddie threw his guitar pick at him, missing by a mile.

And Eddie didn't say it, but he appreciated the sentiment, the idea that, maybe, being a Munson wasn't all bad. It couldn't be. Wayne was living proof of that.

They practised for another hour, running over and over and over through the same Metallica song and tripping up at the same spot every time, until Eddie finally called it, because he couldn't feel his fingertips anymore and his voice was getting hoarse.

Then, they just hung out for a little, and in a way that felt just as good as playing did.

The thing was, before, when Katie and Dom had still been there, Corroded Coffin had been inseparable, spending their days and nights together. And then Katie and Dom had left. And now, with Grant and Gareth, it was like, outside of official Hellfire or band business, they barely talked, most definitely didn't hang out.

But now they did. They hung out, and they talked. They talked about Hellfire and they talked about the band, but Gareth also told them about the way his parents fought with him about his grades and the way he looked, and Grant told them about the way his parents fought with each other and how he thought they might be getting divorced soon, and it felt a little closer to how things used to be, how things were supposed to be – four friends sharing their innermost thoughts and finding comfort in each other.

It was well into the afternoon when they parted ways, Eddie giving Jeff a lift home.

“You gonna be okay?” asked Jeff, the music turned down low. “What with Hagan and everything?”

Eddie nodded, not taking his eyes off the road. “I'll be fine. Part cockroach, right?”

“Right,” said Jeff, though there was something underneath that stayed a little strained and a little concerned.

Eddie raised the volume on Accept to strongly discourage any further conversations on the topic and didn't lower it again until he pulled up to Jeff's apartment over the pharmacy his parents ran, nestled between the laundromat and the convenience store.

“I'll see you Monday,” he said.

Jeff laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “See you Monday. Call if you need anything, alright?”

He knew he wouldn't. Jeff had always been his best friend, but after Katie and Dom had left, something had cracked between them, as if the void left behind by Katie and Dom had swallowed a part of them as well.

Eddie missed it sometimes, missed them sometimes – him and Jeff.

“Sure thing, man,” he lied nonetheless, and then Jeff climbed out of the van and Eddie waited and watched him cross the street and enter the building.

Only then did he drive back home.

The trailer stood dark and quiet. Wayne was blissfully snoring on his little cot, industry level earplugs poking out from his ears, and yet Eddie tiptoed through to his room.

It looked messier than usual, Eddie thought distantly, grimacing at the upturned ashtray and the mess it had created all over the floor. He didn't remember knocking it over, reminded himself to be more careful in the future, and then went to retrieve the dustpan and clean it up. There was a steady breeze coming in through the open window – had he left that open? - and the trailer park sang its usual afternoon song.

Saturday night turned into Sunday without fanfare. Eddie hadn't really left his bedroom again, only to use the bathroom and get some water every once in a while, enjoying the weekend and the lack of homework. He knew that last part in particular wouldn't last. It never did.

See, Eddie wasn't stupid. It was one of the few things about himself that he felt absolutely certain about. He wasn't stupid. He'd read all of Lord of the Rings when he'd been 10, he'd taught himself how to play guitar, he could calculate his own prices and discounts faster than any of his customers, could come up with intricate stories for his campaigns, and he knew if school was about any of those things, the things that actually interested him, he'd be passing with flying colours. And the thing was, every now and then, he did bring home As and Bs – maths had always been his strongest subject because numbers just made sense, occasionally they talked about cool things in English, like Shakespeare, and Spanish had always been a solid C – which was the only reason why all the teachers hadn't yet completely given up on him. Sometimes, Eddie wished they had. It would have probably been easier to be written off as a lost case instead of having to face the disappointment over and over again and listening to them talk about wasted potential and how he just needed to apply himself. As if was that fucking easy.

Sometimes Eddie wondered why he didn't just give up. Then, he remembered how much unwavering faith Wayne had in him and how Al had never finished high school and how Eddie just wanted to prove to himself that he could.

Sunday night turned into Monday. Eddie dragged himself, groaning and moaning out of bed, shared a smoke and a coffee with Wayne out on the porch before he had to go to school and Wayne went to bed, and had to remind Max three times to please get a move on if she wanted him to give her a lift, unless you want to go with Billy, of course, to which Billy gave him the middle finger. He'd made it very clear from day one that he wasn't a taxi service.

“Alright, alright, I'm coming,” Max shouted, and a second late she did, indeed, come out, her backpack slung over his shoulder, her skateboard lodged under her arm, and a piece of plain toast in her mouth.

“Great,” said Eddie, clapping his hands together, “Let's go.”

The middle school was close enough to the high school that Eddie didn't feel too bad about making Max walk the rest of the way, and Max seemed to agree, happily jumping on her skateboard and not even really giving him a goodbye before she was off.

Eddie shook his head a little, crossing the parking lot towards the daily hell that was Hawkins High.

Most students were already mingling outside, catching up with friends. Eddie didn't pay them any mind. He passed the basketball team – Hagan giving him the stink eye, Carver watching him as if Eddie was about to whip out the satanic chants – and ignored them as well.

Mondays were, despite what most people might think, not the worst days in Eddie's opinion. That was Tuesdays. Still, he'd be lying if he said he enjoyed being here instead of the comfort of his own home.

Classes dragged on.

Hagan kept glaring at him, no doubt still hung up on the watch, but he didn't try to ambush Eddie again, which Eddie was grateful for. He wasn't sure what else he was supposed to say. Though he did find it funny that Billy was sitting with Hagan all during lunch, most likely listening to the complaints about how the Freak had stolen from him. The two of them deserved each, to be honest.

Finally, the last class of the day was over and Eddie rushed out to his van, almost running into Harrington who was standing frozen by his locker, dumbfoundedly staring at a piece of paper. Eddie tripped over his own two feet trying to avoid him, Harrington looking at him like he was seeing a ghost.

Eddie flipped him off, kept walking, took a second to remember if the middle school was already out or if he had to wait for Max, before starting the van and driving back home.

Wayne was still asleep when Eddie let himself in, tiptoeing past his uncle to leave his bag in his room, before walking outside again and cross to the other trailer.

He knocked.

The door opened but instead did Max it was Billy leaning in the doorway, cigarette smouldering away between his lips, his eyes narrowing when he saw Eddie.

“What do you want?”

“Is Max here?”

Billy pinched the cigarette between two fingers to take a drag, blowing the smoke straight I to Eddie's face. “No.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Do you know where she is? School let out a while back.”

“Why should I know?”

“Right. Why should you possibly know where your kid sister is?” Eddie asked, seeing the twitch in Billy's eye and adding, “I know, I know. Half-sister.”

“Whatever,” Billy grumbled, taking another drag.

“Say, Billy-boy, did your good pal Tommy Hagan find his watch? He was looking for it, you know. Thought I was the one who stole it, can you believe it?”

Billy clenched his fist and Eddie could practically hear him mentally debating the pros and cons of breaking Eddie's nose right there and then, some part of him wishing he'd actually do it, just so they could get it over with.

He didn't, though, and Eddie doubled down. “Little tip for next time?” he said in a low voice, leaning in close until he was right in Billy's space. “Don't shit where you eat.”

He left Billy with those words to mull over while he walked off, back to his van. He needed to find Max.

The arcade was his fist hunch and, thankfully, the correct one – Max was at the Dig Dug machine, flanked by the two boys Eddie had seen her with back on Saturday.

“No way are you reaching a new high score again!” the kid with the curls exclaimed, very audibly distressed. “You're cheating!”

“How could she possibly be cheating?” the tall, Black one responded in Max's stead.

“I don't know! But it seems highly unlikely that anyone would be able to create a new high score five times in a row!”

“Maybe you're just bad,” Max snarked, charming as ever, and then the Game Over flashed across the screen and, indeed, a new high score had been reached.

Eddie took that as his cue to announce his presence. “Max.”

Max whipped around, heckles already rising. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Eddie pointed out, eyebrows arched up and arms flooded across his chest.

“I'm fine.”

“Clearly. And now you can be fine while I take you home.”

“I don't wanna go home yet.”

Eddie sighed, suddenly gaining a whole new level of appreciation for the saint-like patience Wayne had always had with him. “It's a school night, Max,” he said, hating how fucking lame he sounded. “Unless you want me to call Wayne?”

Max rolled her eyes at him, but the threat of getting Wayne involved seemed to work and she soon folded. “Fine. Whatever. I was done here, anyway.”

“We – uh – we should probably also get home,” the tall, Black kid said, eyeing Eddie a little suspiciously.

“You need a lift?”

“We have our bikes,” Curly said, and somehow he managed to make such an innocuous sentence sound like a challenge. He turned to Max, “We'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah! See you tomorrow, Max!”

Max almost smiled when she looked at them, her eyes crinkling a little. “Tomorrow, losers.” Then, she followed Eddie outside, even if she wasn't happy about it.

She'd get over it, though, Eddie knew.

“You sure y'all ain't friends?” he asked when they were both in the van, watching the two boys clamber on their bikes and cycle off. They were excitedly talking to each other, throwing glances back at Max.

“Shut up,” said Max. When Eddie looked over at her, she was blushing.

He started the car, telling Max to pick the music, but not yet pulling out of his parking space.

“Listen, Max,” he started to say, not missing the way Max gave him a full-body eyeroll and a low groan under her breath at his time, “I know – look, I know I'm not, like, your dad or anything. Obviously.” He huffed a little at the thought. The irony of it. “And I know things kinda suck right now and you're trying to deal with a lot of shit at once, but in the future, if you're staying out after school, can you let one of us know, so we don't worry?”

Max groaned again, louder this time. “I don't need you to worry about me!”

“Yeah, well, tough titties,” Eddie shot back. “We're gonna, cause we care about you, dipshit.” He took a breath, trying to stay calm. This wasn't supposed to be a fight. “So just – next time, just let us know, alright?”

“Alright!” Max snapped at him, fully on the offence now.

“Promise?”

Max huffed, throwing herself back into her seat, back turned to Eddie as much as she could, her arms firmly crossed over her chest. “Whatever.”

“No. Not whatever. Do you promise? Because – because I get it, you know? I pulled the same shit when I started living with Wayne, and he didn't let it happen, so neither will I.”

Max remained quiet, still not looking at him. Eddie knew, though, that she didn't believe him. He took another deep breath.

“You think it was all sunshine and roses when Wayne took me in?” he asked. “It wasn't. It was a big, stinking pile of shit. Wayne'll tell ya, half the reason he hasn't got any hair left is because of all the shit I pulled during my first year with him. I picked fights with him over everything, stayed out late after school without telling him, tried to run away once or twice – I think I was trying to see how far I could push, you know, before he pushed back. Before he gave up on me.” Some part of Eddie, he thought, may have even hoped for Wayne to kick him out, abandon him the same way his parents had. “But he didn't. He didn't give up on me, and he won't give up on you, either. You can't make us stop caring, Max. And you can't make us stop worrying. So promise me, please, that next time you tell us you're staying out.”

Max was still quiet, but it was a different kind, less seething and somehow more open, like she was genuinely considering his words. Then, she glanced over at him, just for a second, and nodded her head. “Alright,” she whispered, “I promise.”

“Thank you,” said Eddie, finally pulling out onto the road. “Now how'd you feel about getting some burgers for dinner?”

Max frowned at him. “You're vegetarian,” she pointed out flatly.

“I am indeed, little Red, but there is such a thing as a veggie burger.” And Benny's wasn't too bad, actually. He'd started stocking it specifically for Eddie a few years back. “So? To burger or not to burger, that is the question.”

It got an almost laugh from Max which was good enough for Eddie. “Sure,” she said. “I guess burgers sounds good.”

“Burgers it is, then.”

They got burgers from Benny's – one for each of them, including Billy even though Eddie didn't think he deserved it, but he was trying to play nice – and a shit-ton of fries, and then returned to the trailer park, where Wayne was awake and waiting.

They ate, him and Wayne and Max sitting together in front of the shitty, little TV, and Billy sitting alone over in the other trailer, though he had grunted a low thanks when Eddie had handed him the food

That's when there was a knock on the door. Once. Twice. Thrice. It wasn't like the angry pounding from Hagan, but rather it sounded almost reluctant.

“Not it,” Eddie said quickly and stuffed a handful of fries into his mouth for good measure.

Wayne gave him a half-hearted glare, wiped his hands off on his jeans, and stood up to open the door.

From where Eddie was sitting, he couldn't see who was on the other side, but he could hear Wayne's grunted can I help you, and then a voice he didn't think he’d ever hear again answering, is Eddie in?

Eddie almost choked on the fries in his haste to swallow.

“Eds! It's for you.”

Filled with trepidation and apprehension, Eddie stood and walked closer. There – resembling a stick figure more than a human being, with his gangly limbs and nary a pound of flesh on his bones – stood Kevin Keegan, patchy stubble along his chin and frizzy, dirty blonde hair reaching down to his shoulders. The closest thing Eddie had ever gotten to a boyfriend.

“Kev,” Eddie greeted him, hating how uncertain he sounded even to his own ears.

Kevin stared at him, wide-eyed, before glancing back at Wayne, then back at Eddie, his meaning very obvious.

Eddie cleared his throat, took another step forward, and said to Wayne, “I'll be back in in a second.”

Wayne, clearly sensing the strange mood, hesitated, but eventually gave a nod of his head. “Shout if you need anything,” he said quietly and closed the door behind Eddie's back.

Eddie cleared his throat again, trying desperately to dislodge the little lump that seemed to be stuck in there, and descended the couple steps leading up to their front door.

“Kev, what -” he began to ask, but before he could even finish the question, Kevin had already grabbed his arm and pulled him away, around the corner of the trailer and slammed his back against it. He was deceptively strong, which Eddie had always like, always found fun to play with, but now it only send a wave of fear through his body.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Kevin hissed, spittle flying into Eddie's face.

“What?” Eddie asked, holding very, very still.

There was an almost manic glint to Kevin's eyes that he didn't like the look of.

“My parents almost read it, you know, and then what? Were you trying to get me kicked out? Is this payback?”

“What?” Eddie asked again.

Kevin stepped impossibly closer, his breath smelled of weed and Cheetos, and his fingers were digging almost painfully into Eddie's arm.

“I thought we agreed that it's over. It didn't mean anything. I'm not like that.”

“Dude.” Finally, Eddie decided he'd had enough of the fucking manhandling and pushed Kevin back. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

There was the sound of rustling paper. “This!” Kevin thrust something into Eddie's face. A page of some kind. “I'm talking about this.”

Eddie blinked, still not understanding what was happening. “What is this?”

With a huff of frustration, Kevin straightened out the page and he began to read, “Kev, I'm a fucking idiot, you know that? I've done it again. I always do this. We agreed that it was just messing around, just scratching an itch, and now I've gone and gotten attached -”

Heart hammering somewhere in his throat, Eddie ripped the paper out of Kevin's hand, needing to see it for himself.

There, written in his handwriting, were words that nobody was ever supposed to read.

“What -” Eddie swallowed thickly, looking back and forth between his letter and Kevin “- how did you get this?”

“You fucking sent it to me.”

“I didn't!” Eddie argued. “I didn't send it.”

“Oh? Then how the hell did it end up in my fucking mailbox?”

“I – I don't know. I -”

“My parents almost read it,” Kevin pressed out, still clearly fuming with rage but now that Eddie was looking for it, he could also see the panic underneath.

“I'm sorry,” Eddie said genuinely. “I really am. But I didn't send it. I don't know how you got it. No one was ever supposed to read this.”

“Then why the fuck did you write it?” Kevin demanded.

Eddie threw his hands up in the air. “I don't know! It's what I do, alright? I write letters I don't intend to send to deal with my feelings.”

“Feelings?” Kevin echoed, reeling back a little. “I told you I'm not like that.”

“That's why I never told you!” Although Eddie would have liked to respectfully disagree. There was only so many time two guys could get off together and very vocally enjoy it before I'm not like that became nothing but the symptoms of deep-seated denial. But that was beside the point. “We fucked around, I caught feelings, we ended things. I know what it was. I'm over it.”

“Then what's this?” asked Kevin, gesturing to the letter still in Eddie's hand.

“I wrote this ages back when we were still seeing each other, alright? Before -” before Christmas, before Al, before juvie “- before we ended things.”

“Then why send it now?”

“I didn't send it, Kevin,” Eddie insisted, hoping that, maybe this time, Kevin would actually hear him since he seemed a lot calmer now.

And Kevin must have, because he was frowning, confusion clearly on his face. “If you didn't send it,” he said slowly, “Then who did?”

“I don't know. But I'm sorry, alright?”

And then, just like that, the last of the fight seemed to be leaving Kevin and he sagged down to the floor, his arms resting on his knees, his head hung low. For a second, Eddie was worried he might have actually been crying.

He wasn't though.

“I need to get out of here,” Kevin whispered, more to himself than Eddie, he thought, but heard it anyway.

“That desperate to get away from me, huh?” he joked, sliding down the wall of the trailer to sit down himself.

Kevin raised his head to give Eddie a flat look. “Don't flatter yourself, Munson.”

Eddie hazarded a smile, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his cigarettes and offering one to Kevin who accepted with a grunt.

“I need to get out of here,” Kevin said again, blowing smoke out of his nostrils. “Out of Hawkins. I – I'm not like that, man. I can't be. Not here.”

Eddie nodded and hummed in commiseration. “Yeah. I hear you.”

“Sorry for attacking you,” Kevin said then, and Eddie waved him off.

“I get it.” Because he did. Because it was scary, being different in a place that punished differences the way Hawkins did.

Taking another drag, Kevin nodded at the letter. “And you really have no idea who could have sent it?”

Eddie shook his head. “No, man, I'm telling you, no one was ever supposed to -”

All at once, then, it hit him. This was his letter. Not just a copy, but the original version he'd written down last year before everything had gone to shit, the original version that had been sitting in the shoebox under his bed ever since.

“Fuck!”

Staggering and stumbling, Eddie clambered to his feet, hitting his shoulder against the corner of the trailer, ignoring Kevin calling out his name from behind his back as he fell up the stairs and through the door. Wayne called out for him as well, but Eddie ignored him too. Through the little hallway he ran, into his room, dropping to his knees to look under the bed.

It was gone.

The shoebox was gone.

“Eddie?” Wayne's heavy footsteps came down the hall, his voice soft and full of worry. “You alright, kid?”

Eddie turned to look at his uncle, his mouth already opened to ask if he had taken the box, before remembering that Wayne would never.

“Fine. I'm fine. It's nothing.”

Wayne gave him a hard look, eyebrows drawn up.

“I don't wanna talk about it,” Eddie corrected himself, because of Wayne knew when he was lying.

And Wayne didn't like it, but he respected it, nodded his head and said, alright. “You just let me know if you change yer mind.”

Eddie nodded.

The panic had receded now, leaving behind a hollow kind of emptiness, a numbness spreading through his entire body, and all he wanted was to crawl into bed and never come out again.

Over in the main room, the phone started ringing.

“You gonna be okay?” Wayne asked, waiting for Eddie to give him a nod before he went to take the call.

Eddie took the opportunity to grab his hair and pull as hard as he could, desperately trying to gain back some sort of feeling in his body.

“Ed! It's for you!” Eddie's head snapped up. He could see Wayne standing by the phone, pressing it against his chest. “Jeff,” he mouthed, and for a second Eddie thought he might actually throw up all over his own bedroom floor.

“I'm not here.”

His uncle gave him a strange look, imploring and deeply concerned, but once again he followed Eddie's lead. “Sorry, son, you just missed him. I'll let him know you called.”

Wayne hung up, then, still looking at Eddie. “Son -”

“You can have the rest of my food,” Eddie said before Wayne could get much further. “I'm gonna go to bed now.”

He didn't wait for a response or an acknowledgement, knew that Wayne was worried and hated himself a little for being the cause of it, wanted nothing more than to wake up from this fucking nightmare in which someone had taken his letters and – what? - handed them out like free candy? For what? To humiliate him? Get back at him for something? Was this some new, twisted form of bullying?

Lying in bed, wide awake, the pillow hugged tightly to his chest, Eddie clenched his eyes shut against the tears threatening to spill over. It was getting hard to breathe. But the walls in the trailer were thin and the last thing Eddie needed was for Wayne to hear him crying, so bit down into his hand to stifle the sounds and curled into himself, hoping against hope that tomorrow would look different.

Chapter Text

Eddie would have loved to simply skip school, probably would have too if Max didn't need him to drive her to school since the stupid bus didn't go to the trailer park and no matter how bad he felt about himself right now, he didn't think he could stomach the thought of making her walk.

Still, he did drag his feet little getting ready and didn't react at all when Max pointed out that they were almost late.

“Just get in the car, please,” he said tiredly, waiting for Max to do as she was told before starting the engine.

“-okay?” he caught the tail end of her question.

“What?”

“Are you okay?” Max repeated herself, looking like the words were physically painful for her.

“Sure. Why wouldn't I be?” Eddie said, resolutely not looking at her.

“You seem different,” she said. “And I know something happened last night. With that guy who came by.”

“Just a misunderstanding. It's nothing.” Just his live coming to a premature and brutal end because of someone's sick idea of a joke. No biggie. “It's nice to know you care, though,” he tagged on with a weak smile.

And Max, just as he'd thought she would, was quick to say, “I don't.”

“Sure you don't.”

He relaxed a little after that, not quite forgetting what he was going to be walking into, but not thinking about it as much anymore either. And once they'd reached the school, Eddie felt brave enough to ruffle a hand through Max's hair.

“Say hello to your new friends from me,” he called after her, which earned him a middle finger.

It felt almost normal.

Then, he accidentally locked eyes with Harrington across the parking lot, and the reality of it all came crashing down him once more with vengeance.

Harrington quickly turned around and rushed into the school.

He'd definitely gotten his own letter as well then. Fuck.

Usually, Eddie fucking hated Tuesdays. The high from the weekend was well and truly over and the next one was too far away to give him comfort. On top of that, he shared no classed with his friends for most of the day. That last fact, on this particular Tuesday, turned out to be a blessing, and made it easy for Eddie to avoid them all together. Avoid Jeff.

He supposed he should be grateful that Dom lived all the way in New York now. He wondered what had happened to his particular letter, though.

When lunch rolled around, Eddie hung back to let the crowds pass through to the cafeteria, before he himself sneaked out through the gym and headed to the dilapidated picnic benches sitting in the woods behind the school. They used to be a make out spot, he thought. Once upon a time. There was initials and names carved into the wood of the table. These days, it was mostly just his smoking and dealing spot during school hours, though he and Kevin used to meet up here on occasion as well; never for anything more than a shared joint and some heavy teasing if they'd been feeling bold, but still.

The table was blissfully empty, as always, and Eddie settled down for a sad lunch of a soggy sandwich and a cigarette, when he heard a tree branch snapping nearby. Leaves rustling. Footsteps slowly drawing closer.

He tensed, ready to run if he had to.

Another branch snapped in half just behind the big tree at the edge of his clearing, and a moment later none other than Chrissy Cunningham appeared.

Truth be told, Eddie had almost forgotten about her, too caught up in the boys of it all.

“Hi,” she said somewhat awkwardly, hovering at the edge of the clearing.

“Hi,” Eddie responded in kind. He cleared his throat, trying to achieve at least so e of his usual grandeur but probably failing miserably. “If you're here to buy, I'm afraid you'll have to come back some other time.”

Chrissy shook her head, stepping from one foot to the other, but not coming any closer. “I'm not here for that.”

“Then why are you here?” Eddie asked, as if, by some miracle, she perhaps hadn't gotten her letter.

That fantasy shattered, though, when she pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper from her jacket. “I wanted to return this. I don't think I was supposed to read it.”

Eddie swallowed, glancing down at his uneaten sandwich and deciding that he wasn't hungry, actually. “You weren't.”

Chrissy stepped closer, then, still careful, and held the letter out for him to take.

Truth be told, Eddie barely remembered what he'd written in it, only that it had been all the way back in middle school, right after he'd come to Hawkins. There'd been a talent show of some kind, he'd watched Chrissy perform a cheer routine from back stage, waiting on his own turn on the stage, and afterwards she'd smiled at him. It had been a kind smile.

“I remember you, you know,” she told him. “You just moved here, I think, and there was all kinds of awful rumours about you because you lived at the trailer park and you didn't have any parents or friends. But there was a talent show and you went up on that stage and played your guitar like you didn't care what anybody thought. I thought that was very brave.”

He hadn't felt brave, then. Had felt scared and lonely and angry.

“You won that talent show, I think.”

Chrissy smiled. It was the same kind smile as all those years ago. “I did.” There was a hint of a blush on her cheeks now, and she averted her gaze quickly. “Do you want me to leave?” she asked finally, looking back at Eddie, but only for a second.

Eddie shrugged, waving a hand at the benches. “Free country.”

“That's not what I asked.” And she wasn't sitting down. Eddie got the feeling that she wouldn't, not unless he asked her to.

He shrugged again. “You can stay if you want,” he said carefully. “Not sure why you would, though. You're usually with your friends. And your boyfriend.”

Finally, Chrissy did sit down, all proper and ninety degree angles with her hands folded in her lap. “And now I'm here,” she said, as if it was simple as that. “And Jason doesn't own me.”

“Does he know that?” Eddie let slip out.

Chrissy's face twisted a little, but she didn't respond and Eddie swallowed down on the urge to apologise.

Instead, he retrieved his cigarettes and his lighter and asked, “Do you smoke?” while holding the box out to Chrissy who shook her head. “Do you mind if I -?”

Chrissy shook her head again, her lips twitching. “Free country.”

Eddie let out a snort, lighting the smoke.

It was a strange sense of company he was feeling with Chrissy, an unlikely comradery, almost like kinship. And it shouldn't have been, was the thing, because there was no world out there in which Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson could ever be the same, and yet.

And yet the silence they shared was comfortable.

And yet Eddie found himself relaxed and at ease despite the circumstances.

And yet Chrissy's company was one he enjoyed and wanted to keep.

“I liked your letter, by the way,” Chrissy said after a while, perfectly casual, like it was normal. “It was nice. Very sweet.”

Only feeling slightly mortified, Eddie chuckled around his cigarette. “Sweet?” he asked. “Don't think anyone's ever accused me of that before.”

Chrissy smiled kindly. “I think you're a lot sweeter than you let on.”

Eddie huffed indignantly. “That's slanders, that is. Defamation of character. I could have you sued, you know?”

It got a laugh from Chrissy, light and carefree. “My apologies.” Though she didn't sound sorry at all.

And Eddie felt a strange sense of pride at making her laugh like that. He liked her, he realised. Not in the way he'd thought way back when, the way he'd written about in the letter, but in the way he liked Max. Like a sister, maybe. Like a friend. And some part of him was a little sad, perhaps, that he couldn't like her any other way, because, he thought, they could have been good together.

“I don't like you like that anymore,” he found himself saying, looking at her head on and feeling surprised by how not awkward it was. “Just for the record.”

Chrissy's face wash a little flushed, but she didn't avoid his gaze. “I didn't think you did.”

And that was that.

Eddie finished his cigarette and then he heard the distant sound of the bell, announcing the end of lunch.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” Chrissy asked timidly.

“Do you want me to be?”

She shrugged, hugging herself. “You're not what I expected,” she said, which did and didn't answer his question.

Eddie knew what she meant though. “You're not what I expected, either,” he told her. Then he added, “Sure. I'll be here tomorrow.”

They didn't leave together.

Eddie hung back for a bit, unfolding Chrissy's letter. His old handwriting looked almost alien to him, the letters a lot more careful than they would be these days.

One of the lines jumped out to him – you looked so strong up on that stage, it read, so confident and brave. I wish I was more like that. And it was funny, Eddie thought, considering Chrissy had thought the same thing about him.

Maybe they weren't so different after all.

They met again the next day, and the next, and the next – him and Chrissy sitting by the old picnic table in the woods during lunch, slowly becoming something more than strangers.

Chrissy, it turned out, was a talker. She tried not to be at first, kept herself small and quiet, held back on her laughter and her words, let Eddie take up all the space, but then she bloomed. It happened on Thursday, and Eddie wasn't sure what had changed, if anything had changed at all or if she'd simply grown comfortable enough to not be someone else, but on Thursday she was herself.

She told Eddie about how she believed in ghosts, how she'd always wanted to learn how to ride a horse, and how she was fluent in French because of her aunt. She told Eddie about a dream she'd had recently that had involved being chased by a dinosaur, a book she'd read as a kid that she could only half remember now, and her thoughts on Tom Cruise’s latest movie.

She told him about Jason Carver – “Our mum's were best friends in high school, so we grew up together”, and, “Our parents threw a play wedding for us when we were five or six, I feel like we've been together ever since”, but also, “Sometimes I feel like I don't know who I am outside of him and it scares me.”

And she told him about her mum – “She always wanted to be a cheerleader but she couldn't be because of an injury”, and, “It's like she's trying to live her dream through me”, but also, “She gets really mean sometimes and she's obsessed with my weight and I don't like it.”

And she told him about the life she wanted for herself – “I don't think I ever want children”, and, “I want to travel, to see the world, to have all these experiences that you can't have here. I want to meet interesting people and fall in love over and over again and just be free”, but also, “I feel like I'm always disappointing the people around me and I hate myself for it. Like I can't be myself, because people don't want me, they only want the version of me they invented in their minds.”

And it was like a dam breaking, like the very essence of Chrissy Cunningham was spilling out of her and flooding the sacred haven they'd created for themselves, here at the old picnic table in the woods behind the school. Like she'd been starved all her life for somebody to listen to the song of her heart, and Eddie felt blessed, privileged, to be allowed to hear it now.

And in return he broke his own dam and said things he'd never said before.

“My dad fucked off when I was five. I don't remember when exactly, just that he was there, and then he wasn't. He came back sometimes, but he never stayed again.”

“My mum left me with Wayne when I was 13 after a fight with dad. I think that's when she learned about his other family. I think that's when she'd finally had enough.”

“You were the first person I ever wrote a letter to. You were the only girl I ever wrote a letter to. The others were all boys.”

And in that scared haven by the old picnic table behind the school, they melded their souls together through the secrets they shared, the laughter and tears, and come Friday afternoon, Eddie didn't remember how he'd ever existed without Chrissy Cunningham in his life.

And wasn't it strange how one single person could have such an impact on your life? How they could settle into the gaps you hadn't even realised were ever there, like a missing puzzle piece slotting into place. How quickly it all could go.

Chrissy hadn't been there, and now she was. And by god, Eddie wanted her to stay.

Chrissy,

You don't know me. You probably never will. I don't think I'll ever give this to you, but I don't know what to do with these thoughts so I'm writing them down. Just for myself.

I haven't been in Hawkins long, you see. Just a few weeks. I live with my uncle, Wayne. He's alright, I guess. Sometimes he reminds me of my dad.

I miss my dad.

I don't know where he is now.

I don't know where my mum is either.

I saw you with your mum today. She seemed strict. She kept telling you to stand up straight, to smile more so you'd look pretty.

I think you look pretty even when you don't smile.

You won the competition with your cheerleading thing. I saw you. I wanted to make fun of you at first, to be honest. Cheerleading always seemed so silly to me. But then I saw you. You looked so strong up on that stage. So confident and brave. I wish I was more like that. I admire that about you.

And then you smiled at me. Did you even know you were doing it?

People don't really smile at me a lot around here. I don't think they like me very much.

I know what they say about me. The weird kid from the trailer park. The one with no parents. I know what they call me, too. A freak. I don't really know why, though. I'm not sure what I did to deserve that name.

I hope you don't think of me like that.

You smiled at me today and it was a kind smile. A nice smile.

I want to see you smile again, I think. I want to make you smile.

I want to hold your hand and tell you how pretty you are.

I want to know you.

I know I never will, though. People like me don't get to know people like you.

But I will remember your smile and I will be grateful for it. I will keep it, if that's okay.

Congratulations on winning the talent show!

Yours,

Eddie

Eddie had successfully evaded Jeff all week through increasingly desperate means that had included, but hadn't been limited to, being almost late to every class, spending all his lunches with Chrissy in the woods, hiding in the toilets in between classes, and quite literally running away while Jeff had called after him to wait up.

He wasn't avoiding Grant or Gareth. They seemed to have no idea what had happened, genuinely confused as to why Eddie was acting so strangely, but at least they'd also stopped asking by Friday. The same day Jeff had stopped trying to call the trailer. Eddie knew because he no longer had to pretend like the phone wasn't ringing every five fucking minutes.

But he wasn't avoiding Grant or Gareth, so it was them that he told he needed to cancel Hellfire and band practice – “I gotta do some stuff for Wayne,” he said – and they clearly weren't happy about it, but Eddie also didn't stick around long enough to listen to their complaints.

Wayne also knew that something was wrong, because he kept giving Eddie this look that was deeply scrutinising and concerned and maybe even a little frustrated. But he resolutely kept to his promise to let Eddie have his secrets if he wanted them and didn't ask again after being told Eddie didn't want to talk about it the first time around.

Eddie almost wished Wayne would push him more on the issue.

The thing was, he wanted to tell Wayne. He really did. He hated the secrecy and the sneaking around and the shame that was starting to fester inside of him that he knew should have never even been there in the first place. But he just couldn't. He didn't know how.

And so he didn't.

He didn't tell Wayne, and he lied to Grant and Gareth, and he avoided Jeff, and he hated himself a little more for it with every passing day.

On Saturday morning, Eddie cooked breakfast. It wasn't five star material by any means, the eggs always burned a little at the bottom because all their frying pans were cheap ass pieces of shit older than Eddie, and the toast was a little stale, and Eddie had no idea if the sausages were edible or not since he didn't eat them, but he thought it passed as a nice gesture anyway. There was even coffee and orange juice.

Once everything was ready, and Wayne was off in the shower, washing off the grime and sweat from his night shift, Eddie went over to the other trailer to get Max. And Billy, if he was interested.

He wasn't.

“I don't know what makes you think I wanna play happy family with you, Munson,” he'd said, low and almost threatening, “But you can take your fucking breakfast and shove it up your ass.”

And Eddie had sighed, all dramatic and theatrical, and said, “Well, damn. And here I was hoping we could braid each others hair afterwards and paint our nails.”

Billy had shoved him back a little, then, and snapped at Max to get the hell out.

“I hope you starve,” Max had told him, ice cold, and followed Eddie across the way, even saying thank you when Eddie had placed a glass of orange juice in front of her.

It wasn't perfect, but it did feel like they were trying, like they were making an effort, like maybe one day they could be a happy family. A real one.

“Billy wasn't hungry?” Wayne asked halfway through finishing his own plate.

“No,” Eddie answered, keeping it short and simple because the end result was the same.

He didn't quite get it, to be honest. Why Billy hated him so much; what he'd done to deserve that hate. And he didn't know what he could do to make it better, if not for them, then for Max, wanted her two half-brothers to at least somewhat get along.

Once they'd finished eating, Wayne went out front for one last smoke before he'd go to sleep, and Eddie roped a mumbling and grumbling Max into helping her with the dishes.

“You have any plans today?” he asked, doing the washing up and handing things to Max to dry.

“Arcade,” she said.

“With your not-friends?” he couldn't help but tease.

Max glared at him, but it was half-hearted. She shrugged. “I don't know.”

“Do you want company? I'll kick your ass at Mortal Combat.”

“Don't you have your own friends to hang out with? Or are you that much of a loser you'd rather hang out with a child?”

Gasping in mock hurt, Eddie splashed water at Max and quickly avoided her retaliation with the towel.

The thing was, with band practice cancelled for the day, he really had nothing better to do. And even though facing Jeff sounded about as appealing as joining the basketball team, he could also already feel the boredom scratching at the edges of his mind, slowly digging its claws in.

“At least let me give you a ride,” he offered.

Max rolled her eyes at him. “God you're desperate. Fine.” As if not having walk all the way into town was an incredible hardship she was going to oh so generously endure for his sake. “I'll be ready to go in half an hour.”

And then she abandoned him with the rest of the dishes to, presumably, go and get ready.

Eddie sighed, but finished up without complaints, just as Wayne came back in.

“I'll take care of dinner tonight,” he informed Eddie. “That pasta bake you like so much.”

Eddie gave his uncle a grateful smile, and just for a second he considered telling him everything. Because they didn't lie to each other. Because Wayne was going to make the pasta bake he liked so much tonight. Because he was so incredibly fucking lucky to have Wayne.

But then the moment passed and Wayne went over to set up his cot in the corner and Eddie still needed to put on some proper pants if he was going to drive Max into town.

He met Max out by the van and drove her to the arcade.

There were four bikes haphazardly leaning against the outside of the building, two of which looked suspiciously familiar, and Eddie was certain, if he was to go inside, he'd find four boys already waiting for Max's arrival. He didn't though, instead waving her off and asking what time she wanted to be picked up at.

“Just before dinner or something, I don't know.”

“I'll be here,” he promised, watching her leave.

It was a good thing, he thought, if she was making friends. He was happy for her.

It also, however, meant that he needed to kill the rest of the day. He didn't want to hang around the trailer – Wayne deserved a good day's sleep, and if Jeff or anybody else decided to come looking for him, he'd be a sitting duck.

Instead, he drove. It was an aimless kind of meandering, down main street and into the back roads.

Saturday was always one of the busier days in town, since most people were off work, and he watched them go about their business, walking with their children and their dogs and their partners. He drove past the pharmacy, hoping Jeff or his parents didn't spot his van, drove past the Hawk and Melvald’s and Enzo’s, drove until he hit the edge of town and then kept driving.

There was a spot just outside of Hawkins, deep into the woods. A clearing he and Jeff and Katie and Dom had found together many years ago. It had been their spot. And then Katie and Dom had left and Eddie hadn't been back since.

It looked exactly how he'd remembered it.

The trees stood tall and thick all around him, the late summer sun breaking through the leaves. There was mushrooms and wild flowers growing among the roots. And there was one tree in particular, an old and gnarly thing with strong, wide branches – they'd made two swing-sets out old tires and rope and then Eddie and Dom had climbed up to one of those branches to secure the swings. They were still there.

Eddie felt a little like he'd walked into the past, like he could see himself, younger and happier, sitting on the ground, with the mushrooms and the flowers, trading his first cigarette back and firth with Dom, because Dom had offered and Eddie just wanted to impress him a little, while Jeff and Katie sat on the swings, holding hands and laughing at each other.

He took a step forward, and the memory dissolved.

It was just him. Katie and Dom were gone. Jeff wasn't here.

With a sigh, Eddie walked over to the old and gnarly tree and carefully pulled on one of the ropes, testing if it could still hold his weight. It creaked a little, but nothing gave way, so he dared climb onto the tire. Listlessly swinging back and forth, he lit a cigarette, ready to settle in for a few hours of maudlin and chain-smoking.

That’s when he heard the low rumblings of a car.

This particular clearing was a ways away from civilization, no official roads anywhere nearby, but there was a dirt track leading through the woods that the seasonal hunters used to avoid the hike, same as Eddie had. Same as whoever was approaching was doing, no doubt.

He just hoped that, whoever it was, wasn't here to bother him.

The engine cut off and Eddie strained his ears to listen – a car door opened and slammed shut, unsteady footsteps traipsed through the underbrush, a low voice cursed under its breath.

They were drawing closer.

Tension coiling in his gut, Eddie waited. He thought he already knew who it was.

And, indeed, a few short moments later Jeff emerged from the shadows of the trees. He stopped when he spotted Eddie, a stray leave clinging to his short hair.

Eddie remained quiet, simply watching his friend with a growing sense of dread.

“You're a hard man to find,” Jeff said, stepping closer. His movements were careful now, slow and telegraphed, like one approaching a frightened animal.

“Maybe I didn't wanna be found,” said Eddie, taking a very deliberate drag of his smoke to at the very least appear calm and collected.

Jeff's lips twitched, his eyes crinkling. “That has occured to me,” he informed Eddie. He was close now, standing right next to the other swing dangling from the tree.

“And yet here you are.”

“And yet here I am.”

Eddie took one last drag before dropping the cigarette and stepping on it. He sighed. Nodded his head. Slowly rose from the tire, his arms hang loosely by his side.

“Alright then,” he said, “Let's get this over with.”

Jeff frowned at him. “Get what over with?”

“Whatever you came here to do, let's do it, so I can get to sulking in peace,” Eddie said sharply. “Unless you wanted an audience? You wanna move this to the town square? Or would Gareth's garage be enough?”

Understanding flashed over Jeff's face before it morphed into something infinitely sadder. “There's this thing you do,” he said, “When you feel cornered. You lash out. Like – like maybe you won't get hurt if you do the hurting first.”

Eddie took a step back, not certain what he was supposed to say to that.

And Jeff wasn't done yet. “You know how I know that?” he asked Eddie. “Because I know you, man. Because you're my friend.” He sighed. “I'm not here to hurt you, Eddie.”

“Why then?” Eddie demanded, still on guard, still ready to fight, still ready to run if he had to.

Jeff reached into the pound of his hoodie, pulling out a folded sheet of paper.

The letter.

He held it up between two fingers, and Eddie felt sick to his stomach.

“Wanted to ask if I could keep this.”

There was a proverbial record scratch in Eddie's mind before it shut down completely. Just for a second.

“You what.”

“Can I keep this?” Jeff asked again, sounding so incredibly patient and like it was a normal request and not fucking insane.

Eddie blinked – once, twice, three times – his mouth opening and closing without making a sound while he tried to find his composure. It hadn't gone too far, thankfully.

“Why the fuck would you want to keep it?”

Jeff shrugged, completely unbothered by the looks of it. “It's a nice letter. You've always been a good writer.”

Eddie blinked again. He wasn't even feeling defensive anymore, not embarrassed or humiliated or scared. There was only confusion.

“You did read it, yeah? Like. You get what I was trying to -”

“Yes,” Jeff cut him off, kind but firm. “I read it. And I get what you were saying.” He met Eddie's gaze, held it calmly. “And, don't get me wrong, I'm a little confused how it ended up in my locker now, 'cause it reads like you wrote it years back just after we first met, and something tells me you probably didn't want me to see it like this -”

“I didn't.”

“- so I'm sorry that someone took that from you. But I'm not sorry I read it.” He sounded certain of himself. Determined. “So you used to have a crush on me. So what? We're still friends, Eddie. We will always be friends.”

Eddie swallowed thickly at those words, letting them settle in. His eyes were burning, he realised, his nose felt blocked, his breathing hitched. Discreetly, he tried to clear his throat, push back on the wave of emotions threatening to wash over him, but of course Jeff noticed.

He didn't even hesitate before he closed the last of the gap between them and opened his arms in an open invitation.

“Come here,” he said.

Eddie shook his head. “'m okay.”

“I know, now come here.”

A wayward tear slid down Eddie's cheek, opening the floodgates. “I'm not gonna cry into your shoulder, man,” he choked out, but Jeff was undeterred.

“Yes, you are. Now shut up and hug me.”

Eddie hugged him, and Eddie cried into his shoulder, probably getting snot and tears all over Jeff's hoodie, but Jeff didn't care and so neither did Eddie. They clung to each other, fingers digging deep into the muscles, strong arms squeezing tightly, and Eddie had missed this. He'd missed Jeff.

And he wasn't sure how long they stayed like that before Eddie pulled back, rubbing a hand over his face, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Sorry.”

“The hell are you apologising for?”

What was he apologising for? The letter? The crying? The avoidance?

Eddie shrugged, getting out another cigarette and offering the pack to Jeff, almost on instinct, even though he knew Jeff would decline.

“I'm sorry,” Jeff said, settling down on one of the swings.

Eddie followed his example, giving his friend a questioning look.

“I meant what I said. I liked the letter and I'm glad I read it, but I'm sorry it happened like this.”

Eddie huffed out a plume of smoke. “Yeah. Well.” Because what else was there to say?

“Do you know who did it? Or why?”

“No idea,” Eddie answered. “But – uh – you're not the only one who got a letter.”

“What, there was more?”

“Five of 'em.”

Eyebrows arched up high, Jeff didn't outright ask, but the question was clear in his face.

“Don't look at me like that,” Eddie said mildly, giving Jeff a gentle shove. “It's a thing I do, alright? Like journaling or something. Except -”

“Except you write letters to people you don't intend to send,” Jeff filled in the blanks with a nod of his head.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” said Jeff, his tone now very different from before, light and teasing. “Now I have to ask – who else was I competing with for Eddie Munson's heart?”

“I'm not telling you.”

“Oh, come on, man!” Jeff pleaded. “You've never talked about this before, which I guess makes sense now, but now that I know I gotta shoot my shot! Consider this payback for all the times you've made fun of me for my crushes.”

Eddie smiled around the filter of his smoke, chuckling just a little. He was beginning to agree with Jeff – it fucking sucked that someone had done this to him, but he was also a little relieved that, now, he no longer had to keep this secret from Jeff. And it felt so normal. Jeff was making it normal.

“Now I really don't wanna tell you.” Except he did. He really wanted to tell him.

“We both know you will.”

Eddie sighed, took another drag, and answered, “The first one was Chrissy Cunningham.”

“Chrissy Cunningham? Small, blond, and pretty? Cheerleader Cunningham?”

“The very same,” Eddie confirmed, as if there was more than one Chrissy Cunningham in Hawkins. “I was 13. Just moved to Hawkins. I – honestly I don't even know if I really liked her like that or if – if I was just lonely.” It was hard to tell now, the memory so far away and overshadowed by the real Chrissy he'd gotten to know. “We've been hanging out this past week, actually. She's brilliant.”

Jeff hummed. “That's where you've been during lunch? With Chrissy?”

“Yeah.”

“Always thought she was too good for Carver, to be honest.”

“Oh, for sure,” Eddie agreed.

“Alright,” said Jeff. “There's Chrissy, there's me, who else?”

“Dominic.”

“That makes sense,” Jeff said without missing a beat, almost as if he'd been expecting Dom's name to come up. He probably had. Eddie was self-aware enough to recognise that his infatuation with Dom had probably been more than obvious even to the most casual observer; most definitely for his best friend. “Katie asked me about it once, you know. If you liked him.”

Eddie raised a single eyebrow at that. “What d'you say?”

Jeff shrugged. “That I didn't know and that it was none of our business if you did.”

Sometimes Eddie wondered if Dom had also known. If he had, though, he hadn't let anything on, never treated Eddie any differently for it.

“Who else?” Jeff prompted.

Eddie took a moment to take another drag from his smoke. “I won't tell you his name,” he said, “But we had, like, a thing last year. You know. Before -” Before his dad. Before juvie. Before everything had gone to shit.

Jeff nodded his head, like he understood, and he probably did because Eddie had told him the whole story. After.

“That's number four. Who's the fifth one?”

And at that, Eddie couldn't help but blush. It was easier to talk about these old crushes, to look back in them and laugh with Jeff, but this one was still raw. An open wound that hadn't even stopped bleeding yet.

And it was so silly, Eddie knew, because he didn't even know Harrington, because he'd only ever gotten to admire him from a distance, because the Steve Harrington that existed inside his head wasn't real like the one haunting the halls of Hawkins High like a ghost of his former self.

And yet Eddie whispered his name now, low and quiet, like the secret it was.

“What was that?” Jeff asked.

Eddie looked skywards. If he was a different man, he thought, he'd probably pray for strength right about now. “Steve Harrington.”

Jeff sputtered, made a pained noise like he was choking on his own spit. “Harrington?”

“Don't start,” said Eddie, finishing his cigarette and hugging himself closely. He wished his face would stop burning. “He's different now.”

“Is he?”

“Have you seen him lately? He looks sad.”

“Uh yeah, 'cause his girlfriend dumped him.”

Eddie shook his head. “It's not just that,” he said. “He – I think he's lonely. He's stopped hanging out with his old crowd. I swear I saw him talking to Robin Buckley the other day and they were laughing together. He – he's changing.” And Eddie wanted – Eddie wanted.

Except Jeff still looked doubtful, with his furrowed brows and his pinched lips and the look in his eyes that almost bordered on pity.

“Case in point,” Eddie added, “He got his letter. I know he did, cause I didn't even have to try and avoid him this week. He did that for me. But he hasn't said anything. To anyone. D'you really think if he was still the same old douchebag he'd miss the opportunity to use this against me? But he hasn't. And I don't think he will.”

I don't think he would. Not anymore.

Jeff was quiet for a moment, considering Eddie's words. He hummed, tilted his head.

“Alright,” he conceded. “But. Like. Harrington? He's so. Bland.”

Eddie let out a snort. “Right. Because your taste in women has always been so sophisticated, has it?” As if Jenna Wilson or Paula Burns hadn't been bland. As if Jeff hadn't confided in Eddie about a very unfortunate dream sequence about himself and Carol fucking Perkins. “Glass houses, my friend.”

“Shut up,” Jeff grumbled, sufficiently chastised.

Despite Eddie's complaints, though – fake as they may be – he couldn't deny that there was something comforting about Jeff's teasing. Because Jeff had been right; he'd never gotten to do this before, because Eddie had never talked about it. And it was liberating, in a way, like a barrier breaking down, like it was bringing them closer together.

They stayed there for a while longer, sitting side by side on the swings in the clearing, trading memories of Katie and Dom. Another novelty for them.

“Hey,” Jeff said when it drawing late enough that Eddie almost needed to get going to pick up Max, “What d'you say we do band practice tomorrow?”

Eddie looked over to Jeff, questioning. “Gareth's parents are home on Sundays,” he pointed, because Gareth's parents were not exactly a huge fan of the band, tolerated it only because it meant Gareth was no longer a friendless loner the way he had been before, but there was a reason they always, always, always made themselves scarce when Saturday practices rolled around.

Jeff shrugged. “So we just hang out. Come on, man, we – we missed you this week. And I don't think I can go much longer listening to Gareth's crying into his sandwich about how you abandoned him.”

“Gareth was not crying into his sandwich,” Eddie protested while also trying and failing not to laugh.

“Oh, but he was, and I can't take it any longer, Eddie. Please.”

Rolling his eyes at his friend's dramatics, Eddie answered, “Alright. I'll come by tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Jeff folded his hands together as if in prayer and gave a little bow. Then, he rose from the swing. “I'll go and let the guys know and I expect you bright and early at 12. Don't be late.”

“I won't be,” Eddie said, though they both knew that was a lie. Eddie was always late.

They walked back to their cars together, Jeff having parked his dad's car next to Eddie's van, and they shared one last, tight hug before parting ways – Jeff to go home and call their friends, Eddie to go to the arcade and pick up Max.

She was smiling when she climbed into the passenger seat.

“Good day?” he asked.

Max shrugged, schooling her face. “I guess.”

“Yeah,” said Eddie, pulling back onto the road. “Same here.”

Eddie pulled up to Gareth's house at a quarter past 12 the next day. Truth be told, he could have been on time, had been anxiously staring at his watch for almost an hour before leaving the trailer, ready to go, but thought it would be more in line with his usual behaviour if he wasn't punctual.

“I thought I told you not to be late,” Jeff said to him by way of greeting, his smile easy and true.

Eddie made sure his own grin looked the way it always did. “I think we both knew that wasn't gonna happen,” he quipped back.

Jeff laughed, shaking his head. Then, he laid his hand on Eddie's shoulder and squeezed. “I'm glad you came.”

“Yeah. Course.”

They used the side gate to get to the garden, bypassing the house all together, and Eddie wondered idly if that was because it was more convenient, or if Gareth's parents had drawn the line at having Gareth's friends inside the house at the same time as them. Scared of the dirt they could track in, perhaps.

Grant and Gareth were lounging around on the neatly mowed lawn, finding shade under a large oak tree, and sipping what looked like lemonade. They were quietly chuckling at something, though both quieted down when they spotted Eddie trudging across the lawn.

There was already tension there, in the pinched look on Gareth's face, and the surprise on Grant's, like they hadn't fully expected him to show up and now they couldn't quite figure out if they should be happy that he had.

Eddie cleared his throat, reaching into his bag until his fingers closed around plastic. “A peace offering,” he announced, retrieving the Skittles and M&Ms.

“Sweet,” said Jeff, wilfully ignorant to the weird mood that had settled over them.

Eddie jerked his head at Gareth, raising the M&Ms. “Catch,” he said, and tossed the candy.

Gareth did not catch. “Motherfucker!” he hissed out after the little bag had hit him square in the face.

“Not my fault you don't have reflexes,” Eddie let him know and threw the Skittles at Grant who did catch them and said thank you, because he actually had manners.

“I'll give you reflexes,” Gareth grumbled under his breath, ripping the bag open and popping a hand of M&Ms into his mouth.

They moved on. No one asked about Eddie's strange behaviour and, if anything, it only put Eddie more on edge, because now he was waiting for it, expecting every word he said to be the one that finally brought it all back around on him, like, if he reminded the others he was here, he'd also remind them that he hadn't been recently.

But no one asked.

Gareth's parents were home so they couldn't practice, perhaps se, but Gareth had a portable cassette player so there was still music, and they finalised their new playlist for the upcoming gig on Tuesday, and they settled the debate on which song they would cover next, and Eddie showed the lyrics for one of the originals they'd been working on. Mostly, though, they just hung out.

It was nice. Normal.

And then Gareth had to go and ruin it all.

He'd been staring at Eddie for a while now, eyes mercilessly boring into the side of Eddie's skull, while Eddie had been doing his best to ignore it.

There were two conversations happening at once, the four of them dipping in and out and giving their two cents as they saw fit – Grant was currently passionately advocating for the merits of salted caramel while Jeff was asking Eddie about his opinion on last year’s Dark Tranquillity album – when Gareth spoke up.

“No,” he said, loudly and decisively, shaking his head for good measure.

They all fell quiet, Eddie confused, Grant and Jeff apprehensive.

“I can't do it,” Gareth elaborated, clearing up nothing in Eddie's eyes. Before he could ask though, Gareth turned to him. “You know, Jeff told us not to ask -”

“Gareth,” Jeff cut in sharply, but Gareth ignored Jim.

“- But I can't – I mean! What the hell, man?”

“Gareth,” Jeff tried again, more forceful this time, and Eddie appreciated it, the protectiveness, he really did, but he also knew that this was going to happen sooner or later anyway, so they might as well do it now.

“Shut up,” Gareth said, not even looking at Jeff but instead keeping Eddie pinned by his gaze. “You – you don't get to just ditch us for a week with no explanation and then pretend like nothing happened.”

“I'm sorry,” Eddie said.

“Oh, you're sorry?” Gareth echoed almost mockingly. “Well that's alright then. If you're sorry.”

The thing was, Eddie wasn't the only one with a habit to lash out at times. He knew he did it when he wanted to avoid hurt. Gareth did it when he was hurt, dishing out what he got in a fruitless attempt to make himself feel better. It had always been a noxious concoction, the two of them, a ticking time bomb, ready to blow.

And the thing was also, there were words sitting on the tip of Eddie's tongue, words like you're the one who let me ditch you, like it’s none of your business what I do, like maybe there's a reason I don't want to talk to you, but he swallowed them down and took a deep breath, and instead said, “I am. Sorry. I – I was going through some stuff. And I was never trying to avoid you. Just Jeff.”

That shut Gareth right up at least, his eyes widening like he was surprised that Eddie was actually giving an honest answer, and explanation, instead of allowing him to pick the fight he'd been so clearly gearing up for.

“Eddie, you don't have to tell them,” Jeff said quietly, shuffling a little closer.

And Eddie appreciated that too. “It's fine.” He thought he wanted to tell them. Maybe. Because they were supposed to be friends.

Trying to collect his thoughts, then, to find the right words, Eddie started chewing on the cuticle of his right thumb, the skin already sore and tender, until he tasted blood. He dropped his hand, glancing over to Gareth and seeing his expectant face. There was a hint of concern there as well.

Eddie lit a cigarette, not caring in the slightest what judgement Gareth's mum would pass onto him if she saw. The filter came back slightly bloodied.

“When I was, like, 15, I met Jeff. I didn't have any friends in Hawkins before. He was the first. And I -” He cleared his throat, taking another drag. Jeff put a comforting hand on his back, subtle enough that the others wouldn't see. “I had, like, the most embarrassing crush on him. Realised a lot of things about myself that year. And I wrote him a letter. Or. I wrote a letter that was addressed to him but I wasn't ever gonna give to him. I just needed to get the words out of my head. It's been sitting under my bed ever since. Until last week. Someone – I don't know – someone must have broken into my room? They took the letters and handed them out.” He took another drag, resolutely not looking at any of the others. “So. Yeah. I freaked out and I tried to avoid to him. And I'm sorry.”

The hand holding his cigarette was trembling, he realised, his heart racing in his chest, his cheeks burning. He still didn't dare look at the others.

“Dude. That's messed up,” Gareth said, and Eddie couldn't help but flinch, just a little. Gareth must have caught it too because he quickly backpaddled, “Shit, I mean – I don't mean – not the crush!” he blurted out, way too loudly for where they were and he slapped a hand over his mouth, casting an almost panicked look towards the house, but there was no sight of Gareth's parents. “The crush is cool,” he continued, harried, at a much more acceptable volume, “You know, Jeff is a crushable guy. I guess. If you're into that. Which you are. Which is cool. But I meant the other thing. You know that's – that's – uh -”

Eddie raised his head, looking at his friend struggling to get the words out, feeling a little sorry for him, but not enough to intervene. He thought if he tried to speak now he'd only end up crying into someone's shoulder again.

“I think,” Grant spoke up, perfectly calm and collected, though he did give Gareth a somewhat pitying look, “What Gareth is trying to say, is that we're sorry someone did that to you.”

“Yes!” Gareth nodded empathetically. “That. What he said.”

Eddie forced out a chuckle and stamped down on any lingering sentimental feelings still bubbling inside of him. “Thanks.” His voice came out dry. Flat. It was the best he could, though, and Jeff gave his back a little pat before withdrawing for good.

“But. Wait,” said Gareth, clearly over his initial speechlessness now. “You said letters. Plural.”

Eddie shook his head and wagged his finger for good measure. “Nope,” he announced, “We are not doing this!”

“Was there more than one?”

“I'm not gonna talk about this again.”

They let it go, moved on to other stuff – Jeff's aunt's new boyfriend who may or may not have been in the mob and Gareth's cousin who had made Harvard student his entire personality – and Eddie sat back and breathed and allowed the tension to drain from his body. He didn't talk much for the rest of their hangout, and no one tried to make him, which he was grateful for.

They all hugged him goodbye at the end, a thing they'd never done before, but not a bad thing necessarily. It was nice, actually, this level of casual intimacy. Comforting. Reassuring. Maybe not all change was bad.

And Eddie promised again that he wasn't going to avoid them any more, and he already mourned his lunches with Chrissy, already tried to find a way to make them work anyway, already cursed the stupid social hierarchy of high school that stopped them from being friends out in the open where everyone could see.

Come Monday morning, Eddie woke up a changed man. The sun seemed brighter, the air lighter, and while he couldn't have said he was looking forward to school, necessarily, he was looking forward to seeing his friends, to sitting at a proper lunch table again, to some semblance of normality. He could breathe a little easier again, knowing that Jeff was still there, that he wasn't going anywhere, that, perhaps even, this was something that could bring them closer together. And it felt good to no longer carry this secret around with him that he had to hide from the guys.

Max and Wayne noticed, of course.

“What's got you smiling all happy?” Max asked over a rushed breakfast while Wayne just kept giving him questioning looks.

“It's a beautiful day to be happy, little Red,” Eddie answered, which only furthered her suspicions.

“You're being weird.”

“I'm always weird, kid.”

“Not like this, you're not.”

Eddie shrugged. It wasn't like he could tell her. Instead, he stuffed the last of his toast into his mouth and carried his plate off to the sink. “Get ready. We gotta leave soon.”

Max huffed, taking her own toast and rushing back to the other trailer to get her things.

Wayne remained where he was, sitting in his armchair, sipping his coffee and smoking a cigarette, still looking at Eddie.

“You alright, son?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?”

“She's got a point,” he said. “Never seen you this excited on a Monday morning before school.”

Eddie turned his back, dedicating a lot more attention to the dishes than he normally would so he wouldn't have to look his uncle in the eye. “Maybe I'm just trying something new.”

“Alright then.” Wayne left it at that, saint that he was, and it did dampen Eddie's mood a little, the guilt settling in once more. Because while he longer had to hide from his friends, he still felt like he was lying to his uncle. Because Wayne deserved better than that.

He didn't linger on it, though, finishing the washing up and grabbing his own stuff to meet Max out by the van.

“I'll see you tonight, old man,” he said to Wayne before leaving.

“See you tonight, Ed.”

He only laid on the horn once to remind Max that they needed to leave before she stormed out of the trailer, letting the door slam shut. One of her shoes was still untied.

“Let's rock and roll, baby,” Eddie called out to her, grinning wide and earning himself a bewildered look from Max. He ignored it.

The track leading out of the trailer park was littered with potholes and could barely be considered a road on the best of days, and the van shook violently as Eddie drove it little too fast. Max kept a death grip on the oh-shit-handle above the door while also trying to kill Eddie with her eyes. Eddie ignore that too.

“Is it drugs?” she finally asked when Eddie had hit the actual road and she could turn her attention to tying her other shoe.

“What?”

“Is it drugs? They say drugs can cause mood swings and, you know, you are a dealer, so it would make sense.”

Eddie sputtered. “No it wouldn't! It wouldn't make sense! I'm not on drugs!”

“Then what's with the mood?”

“Am I not allowed to be happy?”

“Hmm, sure you are. Except you've been a depressed loser for the last week and now you're -” She waved a hand at him, not even bothering to put it into words “- and Wayne's worried about you.”

Eddie chanced a glance to his left, suppressing a grin. “Just Wayne, huh?”

“Yeah,” Max responded with a huff and a sniff.

“Right.” He drew out the word, not caring one bit for Max's glare. “Well. I'm fine. I promise.”

They settled into silence for the rest of the ride, Eddie drumming his fingers to the music and Max barely moving beside him.

And then Eddie parked outside the school.

And then Max kept barely moving beside him. She stayed right where she was, arms crossed and eyes staring into the distance.

Eddie frowned. “Are you alright?”

Max nodded, still not speaking, still staring at nothing at all. Then – “Can you pick me up later?”

Eddie blinked owlishly, not quite trusting his own ears. “From school?” he asked, “Yeah. Obviously.” As if him picking her up almost every damn day for the past two weeks or so hadn't become part of his routine.

Except Max shook her head. “Not from school,” she said. “Later. Tonight.”

Again, Eddie blinked, this time more surprised than confused. “You goin' to the arcade again?”

“No. Lucas invited me to hang out at his place. His parents are gonna be there and everything, and he said it's fine if I stay for dinner, so you don't even need to worry that.”

Eddie opened his mouth, realised he actually had no idea what to say, and closed it again to take a moment. Eventually, he settled on asking, “Who's Lucas?”

Max rolled her eyes at him. “You met him,” she said. “He's one of the boys from the arcade.”

An image floated in the ever-present chaos of Eddie's mind – two kids, around Max's age, looking at her like she was the next best thing after sliced bread right after she'd eviscerated them at a video game.

“Oh! One of your – uh – your not-friends.”

Despite the scoff Max gave him, she also blushed. “Yeah. One of those.”

And some part of Eddie wanted to ask will it just be the two of you, wanted to ask what are you gonna do once you get there, wanted to ask are his parents gonna keep an eye on you? And he wanted to march straight into the middle school and find this Lucas kid and demand to know what his intentions were with Max. And he wanted to warn Max because boys could be real jerks sometimes and she needed to be careful.

Except he also knew that Max wouldn't ever ask him for a ride like this ever again if he did any of those things, and so he didn't.

“Sure,” he said instead. “Tell me and when and where and I'll be there.”

He knew he'd made the right decision when Max looked over at him and there was no hint of her usual grumpiness, her sarcasm, her frustration and anger and pain. Only joy. She was keeping it in check, clearly not wanting it to show, but Eddie saw it anyway, because in so many ways he and she were the same.

“Thanks,” she said simply, and then she threw open the door, almost scratched up the car parked next to them, and jumped on her skateboard to get to school.

Eddie watched her go, faintly smiling to himself. Then, he noticed his friends skulking about on the other side of the parking lot, and his smile grew wider.

He waved.

On his way to meet the guys, Eddie saw Harrington, all alone, watching him from the hood of his fancy-ass BMW. When he noticed Eddie looking back, his eyes momentarily grew round and big, and Eddie thought he saw a flush creeping up his cheeks. Harrington quickly turned his back and stalked away.

Some things, it seemed, were still the same.

Mondays weren't the worst but they were also far from Eddie's favourites. He managed to get through his morning classes with only minimal problems, having a bit of a stand-off with Ms. O'Donnell because she found his fidgeting annoying, and almost falling asleep in calculus because he'd already done this last year and it wasn't like integration was all that complicated.

He did share a few classes with Harrington.

It was like this – Eddie had always known of Steve Harrington. It was to near impossible to live in Hawkins and not know of him. His parents were rich, well-respected members of the community – his dad owning several plants and factories all over the country, producing computers and electronics and shit and sticking his fingers into whatever political pies would help him and his business, his mum making a name for herself with various fundraisers all across town.

The Harringtons were a Hawkins institution.

So, yeah, Eddie had always known of Steve Harrington; when he'd moved in with Wayne – when his own mother had dropped him off at the trailer park with a backpack and kiss to the forehead and then driven off, never to be seen again – Harrington had pranced through the halls of Hawkins middle school with an air of self-importance Eddie had seen a dime a dozen back in the big city, because even at that age, Harrington had already learned that the world revolved around him, and if it didn't, mummy and daddy could fix it.

All American apple pie golden boy, Steve Harrington. Girls wanted to be with him, boys wanted to be him, and Eddie had occasionally watched him from afar with a mixture of envy and hatred, because it wasn't fair.

They'd never once talked.

And Eddie had kept watching Harrington throughout high school, the way one would watch the dark, billowing clouds on the horizon, trying to figure out if it was going to storm soon. It had been a measure of self-preservation more than anything, even if Harrington had never once looked back, never given any indication that he knew of Eddie's existence.

Except -

Eddie didn't know what exactly had gone down between Harrington and Wheeler. No one did. There were rumours, of course, because there always were – Wheeler caught red handed cheating on Harrington with Byers, Harrington and Byers getting into a fistfight over Wheeler and spending the night in a cell at the police station, Wheeler two-timing it with both boys – but no one really knew the whole story. But one day the cookie-cutter, picture-perfect, designed for a white picket fence and 2.5 children couple had broken up, and Harrington had changed.

Eddie had watched him change.

And Eddie was still watching him.

Except now, sometimes, from the corner of his eye, Eddie thought he could catch Harrington watching him back.

He did share a few classes with Harrington, and that was distracting, and all kinds of distressing because Eddie knew he'd received his letter, and yet Harrington was yet to confront Eddie over it.

And he tried to ignore it. Really, he did. But it made it all the more harder to concentrate on such mundane things as school work.

He was relieved when lunch finally rolled around, heading straight for the cafeteria and then telling his friends that they'd be going on a little adventure together. They followed him outside with questions, but no complaints. Eddie resolutely offered no explanations, simply kept walking - along the length of the building, past the gym, and into the woods.

He gestured for the guys to wait when they reached the clearing with the old picnic table, and stepped through the brush.

Chrissy was sitting where she always sat, straight back and hands neatly folded in her lap. She smiled at him. “Hey.”

“Hey. Thought I might find you here.” Eddie winked at her, hopping up onto the table. “Question.”

“Answer.”

Eddie chuckled, retrieving a cigarette. “I got some people here to meet ya,” he told her, carefully searching her face for a reaction. There was surprise there, and unasked questions. “Thought it might be, uh, less suspicious coming here than you sitting down at our lunch table.”

Chrissy's eyes widened, her mouth falling open into a perfectly round o. “Your friends are here?” she asked, some of that shyness and anxiety Eddie had almost forgotten about peeking through.

“Yep. That okay? I can tell them to leave if you want.”

Chrissy bit down on her lower lip, her brows drawing together. Then, something like determination washed over her face and she shook her head. “No. I want to meet them. They sound great.”

Eddie grinned, his heart swelling with pride and joy. “As you wish. Guy!”

One by one, his friends stumbled into the clearing, all three ogling Chrissy like they couldn't quite believe she was actually real.

“Hey,” Chrissy said, sweet as sugar with her smile and her wave, “I'm Chrissy.”

Gareth and Grant both blinked dumbfoundedly, not saying anything. For a second Eddie was worried they might pass out.

Jeff huffed, rolling his eyes, and stepped forward, his hand extended for a handshake. “I'm Jeff,” he introduced himself before waving his other hand at Gareth and Grant, “Ignore those idiots. They're not housetrained yet.”

“Hey!” Gareth cried out.

“Gareth, Grant, this is Chrissy,” said Eddie, hoping his voice didn't betray the nerves he was feeling. “Chrissy, Gareth and Grant.”

“Hi,” said Chrissy again.

Grant stepped forward, gingerly sitting on the other side of the table, as far away from Chrissy as he could. Poor guy looked a little overwhelmed.

Jeff, for his part, seemed to have no such problems, at least, and easily roped her into a discussion on the health and safety hazard that was the cafeteria food.

Gareth stepped up to Eddie, arms folded across his chest. “How the hell did this happen?” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

Eddie smirked. “I don't kiss and tell, darlin'.”

“I was under the impression you wouldn't be kissing her at all.”

“Shuddup.”

Eddie shoved at Gareth, making him laugh, shoving back. It only went downhill from there.

“Guys!” Jeff called out, clearly exasperated, “Can you not! We're in the presence of a lady, remember?”

Eddie straightened up, brushing dirt and dead leaves off his clothes. “Yeah, Gareth,” he said, “Don't you know that Grant is sensitive to this kind of behaviour?”

It earned him a gasp from Grant and a giggle from Chrissy, and then, finally, Gareth sat does as well, still looking at Chrissy with disbelief, but not displeasure, bit by bit, minute by minute, Chrissy relaxed into it. She bloomed.

He caught her gaze over the table, the conversation fading into the background, and smiled.

Chrissy smiled back.

Chapter Text

Steve,

This is a new low for me, you know that? Of course you don't. You're never going to read this.

There's this thing I do, you see, whenever I can't get someone out of my head. I write them a letter I never intend to send.

Apparently it's your turn now.

You didn't look at me on Monday. You never do. I know I don't exist to you and yours – the royalty of Hawkins High. Perhaps that's for the best. I don't think you'd like me very much.

You didn't look at me all week. You looked at Wheeler, instead. And I get it, you know. It's hard to get over someone.

You didn't look at me again today.

And now here I am, and I can't get you out of my head.

I used to hate you, you know. Or I thought I did.

Steve Harrington. All-American golden boy. Rich and handsome and popular. You always seemed to have it so easy, like things were just given to you, no problems, no questions asked.

I guess I was a little jealous.

I guess I found it a little unfair.

I guess I thought why him? What makes him so special?

I don't think like that anymore.

You don't look at me, but I've been looking at you. I've been looking at you a lot.

I look at you and I see someone who is lonely, someone who is sad, someone who is lost.

What happened to you?

I remember, this time last year – I wasn't looking at you yet, back then, but I still saw you – you had Wheeler hanging from your arm and Hagan and Perkins in your shadow. You don't hang out with them anymore. You look at Wheeler now and Hagan and Perkins look at you and all of you look lonely and sad and lost.

What happened to you?

There's rumours, of course. There always are. People say a lot of things when they're bored.

They say Wheeler cheated on you. They say you and Hagan got into a fight. They say you lost your touch, that King Steve has fallen from grace.

Are you a king, Steve? Were you ever? Or are you just a guy trying to survive, like the rest of us.

I used to hate you, just a little bit. I think I was wrong.

And now I can't stop thinking about you.

I wonder what changed.

I will put this letter away now. You're never going to read it, but I will. I will read it again and again and again, never getting any answers, but that's okay.

Yours, from a distance,

Eddie

Steve didn't know Munson, but he was aware of him. Always had been.

From the moment Munson had appeared in Hawkins – scrappy and scrawny and not afraid to scratch and bite like a feral alley cat if he had to – Steve had been aware of him. The show, the event, the spectacle that was Eddie Munson. Loud and larger than life. There was so much of him, it was impossible to ignore.

And, in a way, Steve had always envied him and little. Even back then.

Because Munson had always been unafraid.

Not like Steve.

Munson had always been unafraid, keeping his head held high and a devilish grin on his face, daring the world to take a swing.

And, in a way, Steve had always admired him a little. Even back then.

The thing was, being Steve Harrington was complicated. There were a lot of rules that came with it. Expectations. Requirements. It had always been like that, Steve was certain. It must have been. Even if he hadn't always noticed it.

Steve remembered being a kid, his mum dressing him up in little suits and toes and dragging him to church every Sunday. She wasn't a religious woman, always complaint about the superstition of it all over dinner, but people expected her to be there, and she expected Steve to be there with her. And he remembered his dad, always talking big about how Steve was going to be just like him – “You'll be on the basketball team, I was captain, you know, that's how I met your mother. And when you're big, you'll take over my business.” And he remembered wanting to make them proud, his mum and dad.

Steve had joined the basketball team as soon as he'd hit high school, because his dad had been captain back in the day. He didn't hate basketball, but he liked swimming better.

And he remembered his parents taking him on play-dates with Tommy – “His dad is a very important man on the city council, mum had explained, so I need you to get along with him, okay?”

Steve had gotten along with Tommy, had found a best friend in him, and then Tommy had met Carol and they'd slowly started to drift apart.

Being Steve Harrington was complicated, and once Steve had started to notice it, he couldn't stop noticing it, couldn't help feeling the weight slowly dragging him down and the pressure cutting off his air.

And he'd tried. He'd tried to ignore it, to make it work, to do what was expected of him, what was required of him. He'd asked out Nancy Wheeler because she was cute in a Catholic school girl kind of way, because she'd blushed and giggled all shily whenever he'd looked her way, smiled at her, asked how she was doing, because he thought his parents would approve of her and her family. He'd asked her out because she was interesting, not like Mandy or Brenda or Lisa. He'd asked her out because she hadn't shown any interest in him whatsoever before. Nancy had been a challenge.

And Steve had liked Nancy. He'd thought, if nothing else, at least he could love her and maybe that would fix it. Fix him.

And then Nancy had told him she loved Jonathan, not him.

And then they'd broken up.

And then Steve had been alone again.

Being Steve Harrington was complicated, and being Eddie Munson had always looked so simple, and Steve wished he could be more like that. Free and brave without expectations and without requirements.

The thing was, Steve had never known Munson but he'd always been aware of him because Munson had always made sure that people would be aware of him, that people would see him, that people would hear him. Because Munson had always refused to be invisible.

Steve knew that some of the guys – his old friends – wanted nothing more than make Munson disappear, just as he knew that none of them would ever be able to do so. Because Munson was different, like many of those poor bastards that got shoved into lockers and toilet bowls were different, but unlike all those poor bastards, Munson wore his difference with pride, had turned into shield and armour, and if someone dared to shove him, he shoved back.

And Steve had always envied and admired him for that.

But somehow, this felt different.

The day Steve's whole life changed, was a perfectly normal Tuesday. He'd had a banana for breakfast and bought a can of coke at the gas station on his way to school.

Tommy and Carol had been watching him all day, the way they always did these days. They hadn't talked since before the summer.

And Steve ignored them the way he always did these days.

He'd been watching Nancy instead.

She seemed happy with Jonathan. Happier than she'd ever been with Steve. He wasn't sure if they were dating or just friends, and he knew it didn't matter, that it was none of his business, and yet he wondered.

He still missed her sometimes.

It was a perfectly normal Tuesday, and then it was something else, because Steve opened his locker at the end of the day to drop off all the shit he wouldn't be taking back home, and he found the letter.

Steve, it started.

And it was a nice letter, all things considered. An honest one. It wanted nothing from him but gave everything in return, and it saw him. Eddie Munson saw him.

Yours, from a distance, it finished.

And Steve read it again.

And again.

And again.

It was a nice letter, but it didn't make sense, because he didn't know Eddie Munson, had never known Eddie Munson, had never once even spoken to him, and yet Eddie Munson saw him.

I look at you and I see someone who is lonely, someone who is sad, someone who is lost.

What happened to you?

I can’t stop thinking about you.

And that's how Steve's whole live changed. It was a perfectly normal Tuesday and the world had tipped from it's axis, leaving him in free-fall, and he wasn't even sure why.

He knew skipping basketball practice would cost him his position on the team; he'd already skipped last Thursday after Tommy and the new kid Billy had gotten all up in his face during their first ever practice of the term, and coach had no patience for slackers. He didn't think he cared. He'd always liked swimming better anyway. Instead of the gym, Steve was sitting in his own car, parked all the way in the back of the parking lot with the busted street lamp overhead, and even though he knew he should be getting home, he didn't move. Just kept reading the letter again.

And again.

And again.

I wonder what changed.

He knew he should go home, knew that it was getting late, knew also that the house was quiet and empty because his parents were in Florida. They wouldn't be back for another two weeks at least.

He stayed where he was.

Across the lot, the doors to the school swung open, a girl stepping outside. She was around Steve's age, maybe, though Steve wasn't sure he'd ever seen her before. It was a welcome distraction to the letter.

Steve watched the girl, backpack slung over her shoulder, walked towards the bike racks. There was a couple still there, despite the late hour. She paused, a few paces away from the bike, and then Steve watched her run the remaining distance, falling to her knees next to the bike on the far left. Her hands were moving rapidly, she was shaking her head. Steve thought she may have been talking to herself. Then, she stood, stumbled backwards, and flung the backpack to the ground, her hands burying into her hair.

Frowning, not quite knowing what was going on, Steve climbed out of his car.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, came the distant cursing from the girl, laced with anger and desperation.

Steve started jogging across the parking lot, his eyes falling onto the bikes. Their tyres were flat. All of them.

Steve swallowed thickly around the bile threatening to rise up his throat. He knew some of the guys on the team sometimes did this, slashing bike tyres because they it was funny to see the losers who didn't have a car get all worked up over it. He'd thought it was funny too. Once. Had slashed a few himself right after dad had given him the BMW and all the guys had been green with envy and jealousy.

And he wondered now, looking at this girl, how many people they'd stranded like this.

“Hey,” he called out when he got close, and the girl jumped.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you.” Steve raised his hands into the air, hoping, maybe, to appear as non-threatening as possible, while the girl still looked freaked out. “Do you need help?”

The girl blinked, her eyes scanning up and down Steve's body, jumping into the shadows in the distance, back to Steve like she couldn't quite believe he was real.

“I – I'm Steve?” he offered, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the silence.

“I know who you are,” the girl said, a lot firmer than expected.

Steve nodded, waiting. This was the part where she should have introduced herself, he thought, because even from up-close now, he still had no idea who she was.

“But you don't know who I am, do you?” the girl asked, something almost venomous underneath the words now. “Robin? Robin Buckley? I sat behind you in Mrs. Clicks' class?”

Steve stared at her – tall and lanky, her limbs not quite matching up like she'd recently had a growth spurt, dirty blonde hair hanging into her face. He was absolutely certain he'd never seen her before in his life.

“Sorry, I – I don't remember you.”

The girl – Robin – scoffed. “Why am I even surprised?” she muttered, the words clearly not meant for him. “The way you kept staring at Tammy Thompson -” she cut herself off, shaking her head. “Why are you here? Shouldn't you be at the gym with the other meatheads who think it's funny to vandalise other people's stuff?”

Steve winced. He couldn't help it. “I don't think I'm on the team anymore,” he told her.

It made Robin pause, the sharpness on her face giving way to confusion. “What?”

“Yeah, I – I already skipped practice last week, you know? And we only get two strikes, so. I think I'm out.”

He wasn’t sure why he was telling her this, knew she probably didn't care, and yet it was like he couldn't stop himself.

“Anyway, do you – do you need help?”

Robin balked. “What? You got a repair kit in that fancy car if yours? Maybe a couple fresh tires?”

She hated him a little bit, Steve thought, with the way she was looking at him now, mocking and sharp, all her defences up to turn against him if needed.

“Well,” Steve said, wishing his face didn't feel as hit as it did, wishing his hands didn't sweat so much, “No, I don't. But -” He reached up to rub the back of his neck. “- but I could drive you home?”

“Drive me home?” Robin repeated flatly.

“Yeah. I mean, the last bus left ages ago, and I'm sure I could fit your bike in somehow.” Steve paused, a thought occurring to him, “Unless you – unless you want to walk, or course.” Though he couldn't imagine that being the case. He wasn't sure, of course, where exactly Robin lived, but he remembered the handful of times he'd missed the bus before he'd had a car, and it had always annoyed him to no end.

“Why?”

“Why would you want to walk? I mean, I don't know, but I guess some people just like -”

“Why would you drive me home?” Robin cut in, sounding almost frustrated.

“Oh, uh -” Why did he want to drive her home? “I – I'm not sure? I guess – I guess I feel a little guilty? 'Cause, you know, the team did this, and I'm part of that. Or I was now, I guess? And I used to also – you know? And that was wrong? So – I guess – like. This is an apology. For the team.”

Robin blinked rapidly. “Pretty sure you can't apologise on behalf of someone else,” she said quietly, and Steve wasn't sure if she was talking to him or herself. Then, she shook her head, shrugged, and said, “You know what? Sure. Fuck it. Take me home, Harrington.” She knelt down again, fiddling with the lock of the bike before pointing a finger at Steve, “But no funny business!”

Steve sputtered. “What? What do you – why would there be -”

“I don't know!” Robin cried out, throwing her hands in the air. “I'm just saying.”

“Alright,” said Steve placatingly, “Alright. No funny business.”

“Alright.” Robin gave a decisive nod, finally unlocking the bike.

Steve could tell she wasn't happy with the situation, but she didn't say anything. Simply followed him with the bike to the car. Steve also remained quiet, unsure of there was anything he could say.

Together, they just about managed to get the bike into the trunk, though it wouldn't close anymore. That was fine, though. He'd manage.

“Alright, where am I taking you?”

Robin gave him the address, one of the old apartment complexes that dad always sneered at - “They're a disgrace to this town,” he usually said. Steve had never quite understood what that was supposed to mean. They were ugly, sure, blocks of concrete with nothing else to look at, but they served their purpose.

The car ride was silent. Awkward. The radio was playing quietly, but Steve wasn't really paying attention to it, too busy wrecking his brain for something to say. Anything to break through the tension that had settled between them.

“I really am sorry,” he finally said when he wasn't too far out from Robin's place.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her shrugging. “It wasn't you,” she said, almost dismissively.

“Well, no. But still.”

Because how could he put into words that it might not have been him this time, but it had been him in the past? How could he tell her that he was starting to see how unfair it all was, and that he wanted to change, but he didn't know where to start?

He pulled up to the building, parking the car at the side of the road and following Robin outside to help her get the bike out of the trunk.

“Thanks,” she muttered, not meeting his eyes.

“Of course. Any time.”

They both lingered, shuffling their feet, not really looking at each other. The air was thick with unspoken words.

It was Steve who caved first. “Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow morning?”

Robin's eyes grew wide and she made a sound not unlike a whistling teakettle. “What?”

“Tomorrow,” said Steve, making sure to speak slowly and clearly, “Do you want me to pick you up? Drive you to school? Since you probably won't be able to cycle.”

It seemed like the most logical solution, honestly, and it wasn't like Steve would be going out of his way to help Robin. He literally drove past this building every day on his way to school.

Robin kind of looked like she was having a stroke though. Or maybe a heart attack. Steve wasn't sure what the difference was.

“Can you stop staring at me like I grew a second head?”

Robin shook herself. “Quite the opposite, actually,” she said. “I think you might have lost your head.”

“What?”

“Are you insane?” she asked, plain and simple and, frankly, very rude. “Why would you, Steve Harrington, offer to drive me, Robin Buckley, to school? Where everyone would see us?”

“I – I don't know? You seem nice?”

“I seem nice?” Robin echoed, her voice pitching high. “You want to commit social suicide because I seem nice? You don't even know me!”

And. Again. Kinda rude. “Okay, first of all, I'm pretty sure I committed social suicide when Nancy and I broke up and I realised all my friends are kind of shit heads and I don't wanna be like them anymore, so. There's that. And secondly, just because I don't know you doesn't mean that I wouldn't want to. Know you, I mean. Like I said. You seem nice.”

Very different from the people he usually hung out with. Definitely nothing like the girls giving him eyes in the hallways. Because despite the awkwardness and the tension, just being around Robin felt like a breath of fresh air. There was honesty there, and something that reminded him of Munson, in the way she didn't make herself smaller because of him.

For a moment, Steve wasn't even sure if Robin would ever respond, thought maybe she'd simply turn around and walk off, thought maybe she'd question his sanity again. Then – “Fuck it. Yeah. You can pick me up tomorrow. And drive me home after school. Don't be late.”

Only then did she turn around and walk off and it was Steve questioning his own sanity.

They were friends now, maybe, driving in to school together, for everyone to see, and see they did. Wednesday morning was a spectacle the likes of which Hawkins High had never seen before – Breaking News: Steve Harrington spotted with nameless band girl in his car! It was ridiculous, the way people started whispering behind his back, and it only got worse when Robin offered to eat lunch with him on the bleachers.

It became a thing, maybe, the two of them eating together, talking together, laughing together. Robin, it turned out, was a human disaster but just charming enough that Steve couldn't get enough of it. Of her. And it was different from Nancy, different from Tommy too, different from the team and his parents and the girls that sneaked notes into his locker sometimes or made sure to pull their shirts down low when they thought he was looking. Because Robin didn't want anything from him.

“Oh my god! What do you mean you've never watched Rebel Without A Cause! Why do I hang I out with you? You're uncultured!”

“It's my winning personality and good looks.”

“Eh. Juries still out on the first part and you can keep your looks. I don't want them.”

“Or maybe you just have no taste.”

“That's rich coming from mister I think Mission Impossible is the greatest movie ever made!”

If anyone had told Steve a week ago that this was his future, he would have laughed, would have shaken his head, would have never believed it, and yet here he was.

And Robin was his friend, maybe.

She knew about the letter. Well. She knew about a letter. Steve had kept the nitty-gritty details to himself, thinking that giving Munson's name was probably wrong. Steve did not want to be the one to out anyone. But she knew about a letter – “A love letter, kind of,” he'd told her, “Except I think they kind of hate that they like me” – and she knew that he couldn't stop thinking about it.

“I don't get it,” she said on Saturday, sitting on one of the deckchairs on Steve's patio, wearing Steve's sunglasses, and Steve's baseball cap, and Steve's gym shorts. “You know who this girl is and she likes you and you clearly feel some kind of way about it, so just talk to her or something. Don't leave her waiting.” It wasn't the first time she'd expressed the sentiment.

“It's complicated,” Steve said, also not for the first time.

This conversation always went the same way.

“How is it complicated?” Robin asked. “What? Is she ugly or something? Wait! Wait, wait, wait, is she a teacher? Is she married?” There was scandal in Robin's voice now, genuine shock, and it took Steve a moment to process the words because that was a first.

“What? No, Jesus!”

“Then what's the problem?”

Steve hesitated, chewing on his lip, rubbing his hands against his bare thighs. “What if -” he said slowly. “What if I told you it wasn't a girl?”

He glanced over at Robin, holding his breath.

“Wh – what?” She looked pale in the midday sun, her eyes bulging. “Are you – a boy wrote the letter?”

Silently, Steve nodded.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

Robin wasn't looking at him anymore. Her gaze was still directed at him, but her eyes glazed over. She wasn't seeing him.

And Steve waited because Robin was a talker, unless she wasn't, and when she wasn't there was no point in pushing her. He knew she'd tell him if she wanted to.

“We were together in Click's class last year,” she eventually said, unprompted and nonsensical because Steve already knew that.

“I know,” he said, but Robin wasn't hearing him either.

“You kept staring at Tammy Thompson,” she continued, voice so very far away. “You kept staring at Tammy Thompson and sometimes she'd stare back at you and I – I was so jealous, you know? Because – because I didn't get it. You always got bagel crumbs all over yourself. And I – I wanted her to look at me.”

You don't look at me, but I've been looking at you. I've been looking at you a lot.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

And for just the split or a second, the world stopped turning. Steve could imagine it, could see it happening – him and Robin and the too big, too empty, too quiet house, captured in this one moment, like a photograph. And Robin looked terrified, her paleness turned green. And Steve looked stumped, because this had never happened to him before. And he could see the future unfolding around him, could see Robin running from the house and running from him, and on Monday morning she wouldn't get into his car, and on Monday lunch she wouldn't eat with him, and she would disappear from his life, a mere memory, a fleeting dream he couldn't hold on to.

And it was not a future he wanted.

“Well. That just proves it. No taste.”

The world kicked back into motion. “Excuse me?”

“What? I mean. Tammy Thompson? Really? Have you heard her singing?”

Robin laughed and it was the most beautiful sound in the world. “Shut up.”

And then Steve was laughing too.

It wasn't until later – much, much later – after they'd ordered pizza for dinner because neither Steve nor Robin could really cook and the maid didn't work weekends, after Robin had called her parents to let them know she'd be having a sleepover with friends, after they'd dragged the mattress from the guest room next to Steve's bed, the two of them lying in darkness, that Steve brought it up again.

“I won't tell anyone,” he told her, because it felt like the right thing to say.

“I know,” said Robin and she sounded so certain in her knowledge, it gave Steve pause.

“How?”

He couldn't see her, not with the lamps turned off and the blackout curtains casting the room in total darkness, but he could hear the smile in her voice when she answered.

“Because you got a love letter from a boy, and nobody knows about it.”

“You do,” Steve pointed out.

“Yeah. But you wouldn't tell me who it is.”

“Of course not! It's none of your business. No offence.”

Down on the mattress, Robin chuckled. It sounded just a little sad. “That's what I mean. Do you think if it was any of your old friends they'd have kept it to themselves?”

And Steve tried to imagine it, then – Jason or Patrick or Andy or Tommy getting Munson's letter; what they would do with it. And he wondered how long it would take for it to be pinned to the school's notice board.

“I guess not.”

“You're an okay guy, Harrington,” Robin said, then, clearly smiling again.

“You're not so bad yourself, Buckley.”

They were friends now, definitely, and Steve already knew he never wanted to live without Robin ever again.

Here was the problem: Steve couldn't stop looking at Eddie Munson.

He'd almost failed English once because he didn't understand poetry, but looking at Eddie Munson now, he thought he might get it. There was something about him, something magic, something captivating. And wasn't that what poetry was supposed to be about? Giving shape to words and words to emotions? And that's what Eddie Munson was, shape and words and emotions, the way he was moving, always moving, like he couldn't contain himself, like there was too much of him to keep inside and it spilled over into the world.

And Steve couldn't stop looking at him.

He was careful about it, made sure it wasn't too obvious, though he thought Tommy might have noticed. He was pissier than usual, which always happened when things didn't go his way.

Steve missed Tommy sometimes. Not the Tommy he was now, but the Tommy he used to be, back when they'd just been two clueless kids in a world they didn't understand.

He thought Tommy might have tried talking to him on Monday, he and Carol had been hanging out by Tommy's car the way they'd always done when they'd been waiting for Steve, but then Robin had gotten out of Steve's car along with Steve, and Tommy and Carol had turned up their noses and walked away. He thought they were avoiding him now, but still looking.

Steve was okay with that.

He was looking at Eddie Munson instead. And Eddie Munson was looking at him.

And there was something about Eddie's eyes, the way they pulled him in and wouldn't let him go.

Steve couldn't stop looking at Eddie Munson, and he saw things – the way his nose was slightly crooked like it had been broken once and not healed quite right, the way his cheeks dimpled when he smiled, the way he twisted the rings on his fingers and chewed on his hair and bounced his legs when he thought no one was paying attention. Except Steve did. Steve paid attention and saw and noticed and he couldn't stop.

And Steve wondered, from all the patchwork on Eddie's vest with band names Steve had never even heard of, what Eddie liked about them, how he'd gotten into them.

And Steve wondered what Eddie's favourite movie was, if he preferred sweet or salty snacks, if he was a talker or paid rapt attention.

And Steve wondered what Eddie wanted to do after graduation, if he had plans and hopes and dreams for his future.

Because there were many thinks Steve didn't know about Eddie Munson, but he thought he might like to, thought he wanted to uncover all the mysteries and secrets behind that razor-sharp smile and the ripped denim and leather and metal studs.

An incomplete list of facts about Eddie Munson:

• He was a fast reader. Steve had watched him read a whole book in a single day.

• He had scar tissue underneath the rings, like they'd cut deep into his fingers and made their imprint their. Steve tried not to think about how hard he would have had to punch for that to happen.

• He forged his own doctor's notes to get out of gym class. Steve had caught a glimpse of a whole stack of them in his notebook by accident, and he kind of admired the committent.

Here was the other problem: Steve wasn't gay.

If pressed, he thought he could bring forth a long list of evidence starting with Shauna Murphy all the way back in primary school – they'd been six years old and blushed furiously as they'd held hands and traded kisses to each other's cheeks. There'd been many a girlfriend, most only lasting a week or two, as Steve had tried to figure out how this whole dating business worked. Horrendously bad kisses with too much tongue and too much teeth, sweaty hands and awkward hugs, cheap Valentine's chocolates and cheaper flowers.

Nancy had been his first real girlfriend, really.

Steve wasn't gay.

And yet.

He noticed Eddie Munson in a way he'd only ever noticed girls before – the length of his fingers and the expanse of his skin, the sound of his laughter and the shape of his smile, the way his legs looked in tight jeans.

Steve wasn't gay and yet he was beginning to think that he maybe wasn't not gay either, because not gay people didn't notice the things he noticed.

He'd asked Robin, once. “Do you really never look at guys,” he'd asked, curious and almost immediately regretful because questions like that were probably pretty rude and offensive and stuff.

But Robin had only laughed. “Of course I look at guys. I'm looking at you right now.”

But that's not what Steve had meant. “That's not what I mean.”

And Robin had sighed and run a hand over her face. “No, Steve. I don't ever look at guys. Lesbian, remember?”

And that made sense, but it also didn't, because Steve was looking at guys. One guy. The guy. The one that had started it all.

And it was strange, thinking about it now, because Steve would have almost expected to be weirded out by Eddie liking him like that. He knew the other guys from the team would have been weirded out. There were jokes, sometimes, when someone's eyes lingered in the wrong thing for the wrong time. They had words and names for those kinds of people that were only ever said with hatred and disgust. And it was strange to think that Steve might be one of those people.

Not gay but not not gay either.

He wondered if there was words and names for people like him.

He wondered if it mattered.

Because Eddie liked him like that, and Steve wasn't weirded out by it, and maybe, he thought he didn't not like Eddie like that too.

It was complicated.

An incomplete list of facts about Eddie Munson, continued:

• He was good with cars. Steve had watched him fix something under the hood of an old Sedan right there in the school parking lot with a toolbox from the back of his van.

• He was fluent in two fantasy languages. Steve had heard him complain to his friends about how he would have already graduated if Quenya or Sindarin were language options in school.

• He was, perhaps, the only person in all of Hawkins High who wasn't in any way, shape, or form, intimidated by Billy Hargrove. There was a rumour going around that the two of them were kind of, maybe, distantly related, but Steve wasn't sure if he believed it.

Chapter Text

Three weeks after the letter incident, Eddie was certain he'd finally, completely, irreversibly lost his mind. It went something like this:

He and the guys had moved lunch back into the cafeteria but convinced Chrissy to come and hang out with them outside of school, so now he and her were back back their usual respective tables and the guys were trying to weasel information out of Eddie about the upcoming D&D session on Friday. Then, it went quiet.

It took Eddie's brain a second to catch up, because he always spaced out a little when the guys got going like this, and it wasn't like he ever actually confirmed or denied any of their hair-brained theories, anyway, so there was usually no need. But it took him a second.

It wasn't just the table. It was the whole room.

The cafeteria was quiet, not a single person talking, and then Eddie noticed that someone was standing next to him.

Steve Harrington looked even better from up close, Eddie decided as he looked up at him. There he stood, his hands tightly clasped around a lunch tray, his eyes a little wider than usual, and his lips pulled into a smile that Eddie had no doubts was supposed to look effortless and self-assured but didn't quite manage it.

Eddie swallowed, his heart hammering in his chest, his face feeling uncomfortably hot. He was acutely aware that everybody was staring at them.

“Can we help you?” Jeff, absolute saint that he was, asked when it became clear that Eddie wasn't going to.

Harrington cleared his throat, his fingers flexing around the tray. There was a pretty blush rising up his cheeks. “Do you mind if I join you?” His voice, despite the clear nerves bubbling underneath the surface, was steady at least.

There was another short moment of absolute silence where the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, Gareth barked out a violent laugh which quickly turned into a yelp when Jeff elbowed him into the stomach.

Thankfully, it provided enough of a distraction for Eddie to take a deep breath, discreetly pinch himself under the table, and then find his words again.

“By all means,” he said, satisfied that he sounded like his usual self and making a grand gesture at the empty seats at their table for good measure.

Harrington flashed him a brief smile. “Thanks,” he muttered, setting down the tray and taking a seat next to Grant. “Normally I'd eat with Robin, but she has an emergency band meeting right now,” he explained unprompted, giving a little one-shouldered shrug as if to say what can you do.

Eddie blinked, resisting the urge to pinch himself again and instead looked towards Jeff for some kind of answers. He received none.

“Right. Because you're friends with Robin Buckley now.”

Harrington nodded. If he'd at all noticed the slight disbelief in Eddie's voice, he didn't let it on, simply started chomping on his sandwich. “Robin's great,” he told them. “D'you know her?”

“We've met,” Eddie answered.

Grant, clearly the least affected by all this, chipped in, “Gareth used to be in band. Before he joined our band, that is.”

Gareth glared with all his might, but remained quiet.

Slowly, all around them, the noise picked back up, though Eddie could still feel a few choice individuals watching them, the jock table among them.

“What's your band like?” Harrington asked, taking another bite and washing it down with a sip from his water bottle. He looked a lot calmer now, not quite relaxed, but no longer ready to pass out either.

Eddie took another steadying breath, and then accepted the reality that he was about to have a conversation with Steve Harrington.

That's how it started, anyway, with an unexpected, somewhat awkward lunch.

It became a thing.

The next day, Steve Harrington was there again, sitting next to Grant with an almost shy smile, like he wasn't sure if he'd be welcome, and this time Robin Buckley was there too, talking a mile a minute and throwing questioning glances towards Steve.

After the third time, Eddie stopped feeling like he was going to have a heart attack and instead started looking forward to Steve's company.

He was exactly how Eddie had imagined him to be – a little awkward and a little lame and a little lost – and yet he was also nothing like it at all. Steve was charming, was the thing. Despite it all – the crooked crown the school had forced onto his head for so long, despite his fall from grace or whatever they were calling it now, despite his clear uncertainty about his place in the world – he was charming. And that, Eddie knew, was going to be his biggest issue.

Steve was charming and Steve was handsome and Steve knew that he was those things; that's what made it so infuriating. But Steve was also a big fucking dork – how anyone had ever thought he was cool, was beyond Eddie, truth be told – and that was a dangerous combination.

“All I'm saying,” was all Steve was saying, “Is that Tom Cruise as Ethan Hunt is entertaining, which is all I need from a movie!”

“Urgh.” Robin groaned, loud and pained and long-suffering. “Not this again. I can't believe I'm even friends with you.” And then she tried to Eddie, pointed at him, and snapped her fingers for good measure. “Munson, Munson, back me up here,” she demanded, “Please tell Steve that Rebel Without a Cause is, in fact, a better movie than Mission fucking Impossible.” Her eyes were big, pleading, her lips purses into a pout.

Eddie blinked. “I've never watched either of those movies.”

“What?” Robin and Steve cried out in perfect synchronisity, all their previous bickering seemingly forgotten in the face of Eddie's confession.

And then, as if it was a normal fucking thing to say, Robin decided – “Movie night. The three of us. This weekend. At Steve's place.”

That's how it kept going, with Eddie knocking on Steve's door Saturday night with a six-pack under his arm, ready to watch two movies he'd never had any intentions of watching before.

They were friends now, kind of.

It wasn't like with Chrissy – very slowly and then all at once, but easy and effortless – instead it was awkward and tense – a rubber band drawn right and ready to snap, swallowed words and stolen glances.

They were friends now, kind of, but they still hadn't talked about it. The letter.

It was there, hanging over their heads, a sword of Damocles, black clouds on the horizon, an omen of things to come. Except they didn't. The things didn't come and they didn't talk about it and the more time passed, the more Eddie became anxious, kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He knew his friends noticed, knew Wayne and Max noticed too. He could see Jeff giving him sympathetic looks sometimes, pats in the shoulder and tight-lipped smiles, because he knew. And he could see Gareth and Grant looking at him with confusion and concern sometimes, exchanging whispers with each other, because they didn't know. And he could see Chrissy watching him from across the hall and the cafeteria and the parking lot sometimes, and when they were alone she'd ask are you sure you're okay, and Eddie would say I will be, don't you worry about me.

Max kept insisting that Eddie pick his own music whenever he gave her a lift, her way of being supportive, no doubt. She'd stopped being quite so hostile. And normally Eddie would have rejoiced at finally winning her over, except he wasn't sure that that was truly what was happening. Be thought she might also just be worried, and he felt like a hypocrite for telling her not to be.

Wayne had stopped asking how he was doing. A bad sign, always, because it meant he already knew the answer and couldn't stand to hear Eddie's lies anymore.

And he wondered if Steve had noticed as well, if he'd connected the dots, if he had any plans to put Eddie out of his misery any time soon. If he had, he didn't show it.

And that's how the end began, with Eddie wound so tightly he felt like he couldn't breathe anymore until it finally snapped, until he finally snapped -

“Man, you're fucking killing me here, Harrington. Can you at least punch me in the face or something so we can move on?”

Eddie was five years old the first time his dad left – “I'm gonna get some cigarettes,” he'd said, and then simply never come back. Well. Never for good, anyway.

The first year was strange. Eddie didn't remember much, truth be told. His dad had been there and then he hadn't been. His mum, though, she'd remembered it all. Of course she had. And she'd changed after that – her smell turned from the sweet scent of flowers to the sour stench of beer, her eyes became sunken and bloodshot, her skin pale, her hair thin. She stopped looking at Eddie.

The second year was worse. Mum moved them from the modest but nice house in the outskirts of the city to a dark and dingy apartment downtown where the hot water never got quite hot and the air smelled of mould and mildew.

The third, fourth, fifth year were almost better. Mum got a job again, cleaning houses for people with more money than them. Sometimes she brought little treats back for Eddie – chocolates and cookies and cans of soda – and Eddie never did find out of she'd bought them or stolen them. Sometimes she smiled again.

The sixth year, dad came back. He didn't stay. He never did. He knocked on the door and walked into the apartment like he still lived there, he told mum she looked tired, he told Eddie he'd gotten big, he stayed for a few days, a few weeks, a few months, then he left.

And he came back.

And he left.

And he came back.

And he left.

Sometimes, during the summer, he took Eddie with him, brought him to bars he was too young for, taught him how to play poker and how to pick a lock and how to hot-wire a car. He always dropped him off with mum again, at the end of it all.

And Eddie wasn't sure why mum let it happen, why she allowed it, why she didn't step in. He supposed, in some ways, she still loved him.

And then she didn't.

Eddie was 13 years old the first and last time his mum left. Dad had come back, they'd fought – Eddie had heard it through the cardboard walls of the apartment even over the music he'd turned up high – and then he'd left. Mum smelled of beer again. She wasn't smiling. She stood in the door of Eddie's bedroom and looked at him with sunken and bloodshot eyes and said pack your bags, we're leaving.

The drive to Hawkins felt longer than it was, the world passing by outside the car windows, tall buildings and busy sidewalks turning into fields and forests. They didn't speak a single word. Then, a trailer park, and mum pointed at one of the trailers, told him to grab his bags, gave him a letter addressed to Wayne, and told him to wait.

“I'll be back,” she said.

She never was.

That's how Eddie's life ended and began anew – in a town he'd never been to before, with a man he'd never met before, and a lie he hadn't realised was a lie until it was too late.

“Harrington. Can you at least punch me in the face or something so we can move on?”

It was October now. Summer was officially over, the leaves on the trees turning red and brown and gently floating to the ground, the days getting shorter, the shop windows filled up with pumpkins and fake cob webs and plastic skeletons.

He and Steve were in Steve's backyard, sharing a joint, because Robin hadn't been able to make it tonight and the guys still refused to hang out with Steve outside lunches. And it was strange how not-strange it was.

And that's why Eddie had finally snapped.

“What.” Steve looked at him, his eyelids a little heavy from the weed, his thoughts slower than usual, his face perfectly blank and uncomprehending.

“I said,” Eddie said, “Can you just punch me in the face or something so we can move on? Please? 'cause I can't fucking do this anymore, dude.”

The message must have gotten through this time because Steve blinked, frowning deeply, pushing himself up a little where he’d been slumped down on the deckchair next to Eddie's.

“Why the hell would I punch – what are you talking about, man?”

“The letter, Steve! “Eddie all but screeched. It was a near thing. He could feel his blood pressure going through the roof. “I'm talking. About the letter.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? Oh? Oh?” Eddie was pacing now, realised, though he wasn't sure when he'd stood up. “What does oh mean?”

Loath as he was to do it, Eddie looked at Steve, had to, because this whole situation was already driving him crazy enough, he couldn't allow his brain to start imagining things now. And Steve looked a little stumped, his lips a little parted, his fingers scratching at his chin, his eyes staring off into the middle-distance.

“I mean,” he said slowly, “It just means oh. You know?”

“No,” Eddie said empathetically. “I do not.”

“I mean,” Steve tried again, “It's fine? It – I don't know – it was a nice letter?”

With a silent scream, Eddie tugged on his hair. He wished people would stop saying that.

“I wish people would stop saying that.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Eddie waved his hand frantically, wanting to stay on topic. “Just. That's it? It was a nice letter?”

Steve looked uncertain at that. Small. Eddie hated it. “Is that – is that not what you wanted to hear? What? You want me to say that I hated it?”

“Yes!” Eddie answered, before backpaddling when he saw Steve flinch, just a little. “Maybe! No! I don't know!” He threw his hands up in the air. “I want you to have a reaction!”

“I think you're reacting enough for the both of us right now,” Steve grumbled under his breath, his arms crossed, his shoulders drawn up high to his ears. “And, for the record, thinking it's a nice letter is a reaction. What else do you want me to say?”

“Anything else!”

But Steve said nothing. He simply sat and looked at Eddie and, bit by bit, he relaxed. There was something going on behind his eyes, Eddie could hear him thinking. And maybe this whole thing had been a terrible idea, actually, maybe Eddie should have just kept his mouth shut, because if Steve was thinking now, who knew what he ended up deciding.

“Eddie,” Steve finally said, carefully standing up from the deck chair, but not getting closer, man, “I – I don't care. Alright? I – I know I wasn't even supposed to get that letter, but I did anyway, and I – I'm sorry – but I don't care. I don't mind that you – that you like me. Like that. I don't mind. It’s. Nice.”

And now there was something else entirely in Steve's eyes, and Eddie stepped back even farther.

“Don't -” He held out his hands, stopping Steve from approaching “- please don't. I – fuck – look – I'm grateful, or whatever, that you're cool with it 'cause not everyone would be and I – I'll get over it. I promise. I have before. I – I wanna be your friend, okay? But please don't – don't say things that mean something different to you that they do to me.”

Because hope was a mean little motherfucker, wasn't it? It was bare-teethed and raw-knuckled and never stopped fighting. And Eddie fucking hated it.

And Steve kept surprising him, nodding his head. “Alright,” he said. “I – I'm sorry. I don't wanna make things awkward -” Eddie huffed a little at that, and Steve chuckled. “- or more awkward, I guess, because – because I wanna be your friend too. I don't have many of those right now.”

Eddie smiled, couldn't stop himself. It felt a little bittersweet because a rejection was a rejection no matter how expected or nice it was, and yet he couldn't find himself too sad about it either because he was getting a new friend out of it.

“Alright.”

“Alright.”

And then Steve suggested they break into his dad's liquor stash which Eddie was more than happy to agree to.

They got drunk, just a little, sprawled out on the living room floor, pillowed by the expensive-ass rug and the nice couch cushions, talking about nothing in particular – school and homework and ice cream flavours – when it occurred to Eddie that he hadn't really thanked Steve yet.

So he did.

“Thank you,” he said, interrupting Steve midway to his reasoning on why exactly vanilla actually was superior to chocolate; something about bases and pairings.

“Thank me? Thank me for what?”

Eddie was drunk, just a little, and it made harder to keep the words straight in his head, lining them up just right to get them out of his mouth in an order that made sense. “Keeping it secret. The letter. Me. You didn't out me. Thank you.”

There was a hand on Eddie's arm, then, and a face entering his vision, hovering just there. “Of course, man. I – I wouldn't do that.”

“Yeah well. I know that now.”

But he couldn't have known before. And whoever had given Steve the letter couldn't have known. And if it had been anyone else, things could have played out a whole lot different.

“I'm not -” Eddie found himself saying, then. “I'm not ashamed, you know.” He wasn't sure if he'd ever really had been. Afraid, maybe, when he'd first realised just how different he was, how right the people around were when they'd called him certain names. But not ashamed. Never that. “It was just that – people already hate me enough as it is. Don't really need ta add oil to the flames, ya know?”

“Yeah. I know,” Steve whispered, giving Eddie's arm a squeeze before settling back down on the rug. “Or. Well. I guess I don't, really. But. Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Eddie agreed.

“Do you know who -”

“No,” said Eddie before Steve could even finish the question, because Eddie had been expecting it. Had been preparing for it. And he'd decided, right from the start, that he'd tell Steve the story. The whole story. And so he did.

He told Steve all of it – about Chrissy and Jeff and Dom and Kevin and him. And just like with Jeff, he left out Kevin's name because it wasn't his to tell. And he told Steve who knew what and how much to spare him the anxiety of accidentally saying the wrong thing to the wrong person.

“I don't really get who would do something like that,” was Steve's verdict at the very end. “I mean. That's fucked up, right? And what was the goal, anyway? Humiliate you? Because I feel like there would have been easier ways to do that.”

Eddie sighed. “I don't know.”

Truth be told, he felt like he had no energy left anymore for the who and the why and the what of it all.

Fact: it had happened.

Fact: there was nothing he could do about it.

Fact: despite it all, it seemed to have worked out alright.

He kind of just wanted to move on now and hopefully, eventually, forget it had ever happened in the first place.

And he said as much to Steve, turned his head a little and said, “I just wanna move on and forget it happened.” And also, “I wanna get out of this town.”

And he couldn't really see Steve's face, the way they were lying side by side, their limbs weight down by the whiskey, but he could feel Steve go very, very still.

“Where would you go?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. Nowhere. Does it matter? It's a big old world out there and it ain't gonna discover itself.”

Next to him, he could feel Steve nod. They were lying close together, arms brushing and the loose strands of Eddie's hair no doubt tickling Steve's ear.

“What about you?” asked Eddie. “What does Steve Harrington wanna do when he grows up?”

Steve chuckled a little, it was a small and breathy sound. “When I was a kid,” he started to explain, “I wanted to be a firefighter.”

“Oh yeah. Me too.” Firefighter and wizard and chocolate taste tester. Little Eddie had had all kinds of dreams.

“And then,” Steve continued, “When I got older, dad started talking about how I was gonna take over his business. Like. It wasn't even a question to him. He just told me that's what's gonna happen.”

Eddie frowned a little, not surprised, but unhappy all the same. “Is that what you want?”

Steve ignored his question, sighing deeply, running a hand over his face and dropping on top of Eddie's, though Eddie didn't think he even noticed. “My parents aren't here a whole lot. But when they are, lately, they've been talking about college a lot. You know, telling me which ones have good business programmes, like it's already decided that that's what I'm gonna do.”

Eddie hummed. It was hard to concentrate. The nerves of his hand where he was connected to Steve felt like they were on fire, and he had to resist the urge to turn his hand and close his fingers around Steve's. “But is that what you want?” he asked again.

For moment, Steve remained silent. Then, he answered, “I don't know if I want to go to college at all.”

“Then don't,” said Eddie, plain and simple even though he knew it wasn't.

Steve shifted a little next to him, and Eddie could feel his gaze, heavy and warm, resting on the side of his face. “What would I do instead?”

Eddie shifted too, turning his head to look at Steve. They were so close, like this, side to side and noses nearly touching. He smiled. “Whatever you want, Stevie. Whatever you want.”

And Steve smiled back, then. “That sounds nice.”

They stayed like that, whiskey-drunk and floating on Mrs. Harrington's cloud of a rug; dreaming of the possibility of a future.

And the thing was, nothing really changed after that. Except it also did. It was like, now that they'd cleared the air, finally talked about it, the final barrier between them that had kept them apart, had broken down.

And, sure, Eddie was still a little worried that Steve would change his mind, that he'd wake up one day and realise, actually, he wasn't cool with Eddie liking him like that, but it was a passive thing. It was the same kind of worry he had about Wayne and Jeff and Gareth and Grant deciding that he wasn't really worth the trouble after all, an insidious what-if in the back of his mind he was used to. And he could easily ignore it, argue against it, because right now Steve was his friend, and that, he thought, was more than he'd ever hoped to imagine.

Halloween, as no one would be too surprised to find out, had always been Eddie's favourite holiday.

Growing up, there'd never been enough money to go around to make much of a fuss over the likes of birthdays and Christmas, and after dad had up and left, it wasn't like his mum had even paid attention to those things anymore, to busy stewing in her own misery. And Wayne tried, always had, to make birthdays and Christmas special for Eddie, but at that point Eddie had already stopped expecting more than a hug and maybe a stale cake from the discount section at the store.

Halloween, though – Halloween was different. It wasn't about gifts or those mushy happy feelings people talked about or being grateful. Instead it was about protecting oneself from all the things that went bump in the night and appeasing the spirits roaming the world of the living. The free candy didn't hurt either.

Eddie had taught himself how to sew when he'd been ten to make a Batman costume, and since then he'd found more and more creative ways to go all out for that one night of the year. Really let his freak flag fly. Because for that one night, people didn't care what he looked like, how he behaved, how weird he was being, and if he felt like dressing up as Xena then he could very well do that and be secure in the knowledge that no one would give him shit for it.

In most recent years, he'd spent the night with his band, horror movies and pizza and cheap booze in place of trick-or-treating. Sometimes they'd TP a teacher's house if one of them had been feeling particularly vindictive.

This year was shaping up to look a little different.

“My parents are gonna be out of town,” Steve said over another shared lunch in the cafeteria. At this point, at least, the novelty of it had worn off entirely and people didn't so much as raise an eyebrow at it anymore. “I was thinking of having a little get together or something. If you're interested.” He looked at all of them, though his eyes lingered on Eddie. Or so he liked to think. Wishful thinking no doubt, and yet he revelled in it.

Jeff and Grant hemmed and hawed to themselves, glancing at Eddie as if it was his call to make, while Gareth looked at Steve with disbelief. He'd mostly gotten over his grudge and reservations, but apparently that did not extend to outside the school hallways.

“You, Steve Harrington,” he said, going as far as pointing at Steve, “Are inviting us-” He pointed at each of the band guys one by one. “-To a Halloween party at your house?”

Steve shrugged, apparently not at all fazed by Gareth's persistent lukewarm attitude towards him. “It's a get together, not a party,” he said, which answered none of Gareth's questions but brought up a few of their own for Eddie. “But, sure. Why not? It'll be a friends only kinda thing. Nothing too wild.”

Gareth took a deep breath. There was a familiar pinch between his eyebrows, a wrinkle in his nose, like he was smelling something sour, and Eddie knew, before Gareth made even a single sound, that nothing good was going to come out of his mouth.

“We would love,” Eddie quickly cut in, “To mark the occasion of Samhain in the king's castle.”

Gareth looked a little betrayed by Eddie's announcement, but luckily refrained from any further comments. Jeff and Grant simple nodded, following Eddie's lead.

Steve mouthed the word Samhain to himself but smiled in clear satisfaction.

Robin was chewing her sandwich open-mouth-style. “Am I invited?”

“Obviously,” said Steve with a roll of his eyes, like the very question was ridiculous. Eddie kind of had to agree that it was. These days, where one of them went, the other wasn't far behind.

“Just checking.” Robin's words came out muffled and she got crumbs all over herself, flipping them off when they laughed at her for it.

Eddie was looking forward to Halloween. After all, it was his favourite holiday.

After lunch and after school and after cheer practice let out, Eddie was still there, loitering around the parking lot, waiting for Chrissy.

It had gotten pretty chilly pretty quick and he shivered slightly. Shivered even more when he spotted his friend walking out of the gym in a sleeveless top, her hair still wet from the shower.

The rest of the team had already left, he knew. It always went like this. They hadn't really talked about it yet, but Eddie knew that Chrissy always made sure she was the last one to leave so she wouldn't have to shower in front of the other girls. It made her feel bad about herself.

Eddie didn't mind waiting.

He didn't always pick her up from practice, barely even enough to call it a tradition, to be honest, but every once in a while he was there in his van and together they just drove aimlessly through Hawkins and talked about their days. Sometimes, Eddie took her to the quarry to lie on the roof of the van and stare up at the sky so they could pretend they could see the stars.

It was one of those nights tonight.

“How was practice?” Eddie asked when Chrissy climbed into the passenger seat.

“It was good. How was your day?”

Eddie started the van, pulling out of the empty parking lot. “Steve invited me and the guys to his place for Halloween,” he announced and refused to feel ashamed of the glee in his voice.

“Steve Harrington invited you to a Halloween party?”

“Not liking that tone, young lady,” Eddie said, wagging a finger at her. “You don't havta sound so surprised. And it's not a party. It's a friends only get together. Which is different.”

Chrissy giggled, pulling her bag into her lap and digging around in it until she found her sweater. “Are you gonna go?”

“Obviously I'm gonna go.”

“Obviously.”

Chrissy knew and didn't know about the letter and Eddie's crush on Steve because she was smart and he'd never had to tell her in that many words. And unlike Jeff she didn't tease him about it, though sometimes he thought he could see something like concern in her eyes whenever he mentioned Steve.

“You should come too,” Eddie suggested, speeding through the abandoned back roads of Hawkins towards the quarry. “You already know Steve, so it's not like you'd be hanging out with a stranger, and I know the guys can sometimes act like a pack of feral hyaenas but they do like having you around and I don't know if you've met Robin but she's super cool and I think you'd love her.”

Because he'd come prepared for this, had meticulously laid out all his arguments against all the protests he knew Chrissy would bring forth. Not that he'd force her, or anything. But he thought it might be good for her, hanging out with the weirdos for a night, letting herself let go for a bit, getting away from the weird pageant contest of high school popularity.

And, as expected, Chrissy protested, “I'm not invited.”

“I'm inviting you.”

“Eddie, you can't invite me to someone else's party.”

“Friends only get together. And sure I can. I just did.” Steve wouldn't mind, anyway, Eddie was sure of that at least. He knew Chrissy and Eddie were friends.

“I don't know,” Chrissy said, sounding reluctant and a little bit uncomfortable, so Eddie dropped it for now.

The quarry was just up ahead, a dead drop down to the still waters that looked like a pool of black ink during the night. He parked the van at a respectful distance and looked over at Chrissy – she was drowning in her sweater, the sleeves pulled down all the way over her hands. He thought it may have been Carver's once upon a time with how big it was on her, but she'd clearly liberated it and made it her own.

“Roof?” he asked.

Chrissy nodded, not speaking.

She climbed up first and accepted the blanket Eddie threw her way, spreading it out on top to keep the chill from the roof away. Then, Eddie followed.

It was always peaceful here, away from the busy streets and surrounded by nothing but the echoing tranquillity of the quarry. Eddie always wondered if he would survive the jump, what it would feel like to fly for those few precious moments before he'd hit the water. He wouldn't try, of course, wasn't that stupid, but he did wonder.

And the way they were lying – side by side and arms brushing – reminded him of Steve, of the night they'd truly become friends. He wondered about that too. How Steve was so different from what he used to be, from what Eddie had expected him to be. He was still trying to wrap his head around that sometimes, the fact that they were friends now.

“So. What say you? Halloween at Steve's?” he asked, nudging Chrissy a little and flashing her his goofiest grin.

Chrissy wasn't looking at him, though, her eyes fixed on the night sky, the billowing clouds up there, dark on dark.

“I had a fight with my mum last night,” she whispered, the words so very small.

Eddie stopped grinning, bridged the distance between them to take her hand. “You okay?”

Chrissy jerked her shoulders in a shrug. “I never said no to her before.” There were tears in her voice, Eddie could hear them, and he felt utterly helpless by the sound of it.

Helping other people with their parental struggles had never really been his strong suit since his parents had given up on pretty early on, and he never felt capable of more than empty platitudes while pushing down his own bitterness and hurt and the memories of his mum driving away and never coming back. And he was trying, desperately, to come up with something more substantial now, something that could make Chrissy feel better, but only kept coming up empty.

Perhaps he needn't have worried, though, because Chrissy went on all on her own.

“We were talking about Jason,” she explained, “We haven't been spending a lot of time together recently because – and I guess he must have spoken to her about it. And she kept telling me how lucky I was, that a boy like Jason was interested in me, what she would give to be in my shoes, that it wouldn't last forever. She said I had to make an effort. And that she wants me to marry him once I've graduated.” Eddie blinked at that, a little stumped, certain that any reasonable parent would have considered 18 and just out of high school a little too young to get married. “I said no. I never said no to her before.”

And he tried to imagine Wayne pushing him to find a girlfriend and get hitched, have kids within the first year, no doubt, and he couldn't. The thought alone was laughable. There was no reality in which Wayne could have been like that.

“Jesus Christ, man,” he whispered, because all other words seemed to be failing him right now.

He shifted, reached out blindly, wanting to at least hold Chrissy if he couldn't do anything else, and she let him. Her arms, airy but so very strong from hours upon hours of stunts and cheerleading, wrapped around him and squeezed tightly.

Chrissy sniffled into his shoulder and pulled back just a little, just enough so Eddie's hair wouldn't get into her mouth when she spoke again.

“I think I'm going to break up with Jason.”

Eddie took a moment to process the new information, recalibrate his reality around it, because this truly was not where he'd expected this conversation to go. And he took in Chrissy's face, saw the wayward tears still rolling down her cheeks, the redness of her nose and the rawness of her lips, but also the certainty that was there, the determination, the knowledge.

He licked his lips, “Can't say I disagree with that decision,” he said carefully, trying not to smile too much because smiling still seemed a little inappropriate for the moment, no matter how much proud he was feeling. “Can I ask what made you reach it?”

Because last he'd checked, it hadn't sounded like Chrissy had had any plans of cutting herself loose.

Chrissy smiled, it wasn't big but it was real, warming Eddie's heart because it was for him. “I made some new friends,” she said, “And they made me realise that it's okay to be a little different, to not always do what other people want me to do, to be myself. I'm allowed to have dreams.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, realising a second too late just how choked up he sounded. He cleared his throat. Tried again. “Yeah, you are.” He pulled Chrissy back into a hug, holding on as fast as he could. “You gotta reach for the stars, Cunningham.”

They stayed like that, arm in arm on the roof of Eddie's van, until the chill got a little too chilly and the hour got a little too late.

It was Chrissy who pulled back at the end. “Can I stay with you tonight?” she asked, surprising him one last time. “I don't think I'm ready to go home.”

And Eddie didn't even need to think about it before he said, “Yes. Of course you can.”

Eddie woke up on Wayne's cot, a little confused for just a moment before he remembered that Chrissy was sleeping in his bed because Eddie, in a moment of severely misguided chivalry, had insisted that she would. He was regretting it now. How the hell Wayne slept on this thing every damn day was beyond him.

Maybe he should consider getting a new one soon, give Wayne's back some reprieve from this veritable torture device.

Eddie groaned, low and pained.

“Morning, son,” came Wayne's gruff voice from somewhere to his right, and Eddie pried his eyes open.

Wayne was stood leaning against the kitchen counter, perfectly at easy in his own home, if a little confused, perhaps, as to why Eddie was sleeping out here again. He was holding a coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

“Max stay over again?”

Eddie made what he hoped to be a negative sound and shook his head, wincing at the movement. His neck felt about as sore as his back did.

“Then can I ask what'cha doin' out here? Everything alright, Ed?”

Eddie hummed a vague affirmative and then braced himself before sitting on up. “Coffee,” he croaked.

“In the pot where it always is.”

Eddie got up with a groan and a curse and got coffee from the pot where it always was, sitting down heavily on the couch.

Wayne handed him a cigarette. “So?” he prompted once Eddie was all settled and ready to wake up. “Why d'you sleep out here?”

“Friend stayed over. I was trying to be considerate, or whatever.” He probably wouldn't try it again.

Wayne nodded.

And then, as if summoned, Eddie's bedroom door opened and Chrissy stepped out. She was wearing Eddie's sweatpants and Eddie's shirt, drowning in the size of them.

“Oh.” She stopped shirt when she spotted Wayne, her whole body going tense. “Good morning Mr. Munson. I – I'm Chrissy. Eddie's friend. I hope it was okay that I stayed over.”

Wayne let out a grunt. “No skin off my back.”

“D'you want coffee?” asked Eddie, remembering that he was supposed to be a good host. “Or breakfast?”

Chrissy shook her head. “No thank you. I'm just going to wash up and then I'm ready to go.” Slowly, hesitantly, she retreated towards the bathroom.

“There should be a spare toothbrush flying around in there somewhere,” Eddie told her.

“Thanks.” And then she was gone, the lock on the bathroom door clicking shut.

Wayne levelled Eddie with an inscrutable look. “A friend, huh?”

“Yeah. A friend.”

Eddie didn't think he liked the sly glint in Wayne's eyes, the implications behind it. Because it wasn't like that. Because it would never be like that. Because Wayne should know, shouldn't he? He deserved to know, after everything he'd done for Eddie, everything they'd gone through together, Eddie should be honest with with him, should trust him with this piece of himself.

“Wayne I -”

The front door burst open, Max stepping inside as of she owned the place, her eyes immediately falling on Eddie.

“You're not even dressed?” she asked, judgemental and accusatory.

Eddie took a pointed drag of his smoke. “It's still early.”

Max rolled her eyes. “Do you have food? We're all out.”

“Help yourself,” Wayne offered. “I'll be sure to make a grocery run later.”

Max muttered a quiet thanks and descended upon the fridge, while Wayne turned back to Eddie.

“You were sayin'?”

Eddie swallowed thickly. “It's nothing.”

Because Wayne deserved to know and yet Eddie couldn't – it was too risky.

And he knew Wayne clocked the lie, could see the growing worry, but he allowed it, let it slide, at least for now.

“I'm gonna get dressed,” Eddie announced, making a hasty exit just in case Wayne changed his mind.

Once he was dressed and had double and triple checked that his backpack had everything he'd need for school today, he went back out to wait for Chrissy and Max.

Wayne had taken the spot on the couch, heavy shoulders and deep lines on his face. He looked tired.

“Do you want me to get groceries later? I still got some cash.” He'd have to make some bigger sales again soon though, probably. Not too much of a problem with Halloween coming up and everyone looking for party favours.

Wayne sighed. “Ed. We talked about this, son. Ain't your job to take care of this family. You keep your money for yourself.”

It was a well-tread argument, and Eddie knew Wayne wouldn't budge. He never did. Just as Wayne knew that Eddie was going to worry anyway, no point in telling him not to. And if Eddie took the chance to slip a tenner into Wayne's wallet, well, that was between him and whatever entity resided over this mortal plane of existence.

Once Chrissy came out of the bathroom, now wearing her clothes from the previous day again, her hair pulled neatly into a high ponytail, the two of them went outside to Eddie's van.

Max was already waiting for them. “Who are you?” she asked bluntly as ever, eyes critically surveying Chrissy.

“Max,” Eddie said sharply, because there was a way to ask that question without sounding so rude.

Chrissy didn't seem to mind all that much though, her smile warm and pleasant. “I'm Chrissy. Eddie's friend.”

“Friend. Right.”

“Keep up with that tone and you can walk to school,” Eddie warmed her, only half joking.

Max scoffed. “It's not like I care, anyway,” she announced, and then claimed the passenger seat, the way she always did.

Eddie gave Chrissy an apologetic smile and helped her into the back seat. “Sorry about her,” he whispered.

Chrissy shook her head. “Don't be.” Then, she froze. Her eyes were focused on something in front of the van, her whole face growing pale.

“You okay?” Eddie asked, craning his neck to follow her line of sight.

There, casually leaning in the door frame of the other trailer, arms crossed over his regretfully bare chest and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, stood Billy. He was watching them.

“Just ignore him,” Max said, sticking her tongue out and giving Billy her middle finger for good measure. “He's a jerk.”

And she might have gone into further detail on exactly how and why Billy was a jerk, no doubt painting a very vivid picture, but Eddie wasn't listening. He couldn't. Because Chrissy was here, and Billy was here, and Billy was seeing her, and Billy was on the basketball team with Jason Carver. Because Chrissy wasn't supposed to be here.

And Billy didn't react in any way to Max's taunts, wasn't even looking at her. He was looking at Chrissy, and then he was looking at Eddie, and then he smirked and Eddie's heart turned to ice inside his chest, freezing all the blood in his veins.

Eddie did not remember how he got everyone to school in one piece after that.

The thing was, Eddie had never been scared of Billy. He knew a lot of people felt intimidated by his size and his attitude, the anger always simmering just underneath the surface. And it wasn't like Eddie was scared of him now, not really, but he was feeling more cautious than usual, apprehensive. Not even necessarily for himself, but for Chrissy. Because if Billy spread the news of Chrissy Cunningham spending the night with Eddie, it wouldn't be Eddie who'd take the biggest hit. Sure, Carver's friends would probably try to incite a witch-hunt of sorts, rallying the troops against the Freak corrupting the poor innocent cheerleader, but he knew he could deal with that. Chrissy though – Chrissy would take the brunt of it. Carver would blame her as much as he would blame Eddie, would get jealous and angry and ugly, would tell all his friends about Chrissy's betrayal, and then it would only be a matter of time before the news were to reach Chrissy's parents, because Hawkins was a small town and people talked, and who knew what Chrissy's mum would do then?

For the whole day, Eddie kept waiting, kept watching – for Carver to come storming towards him, for the rumours and whispers to get louder, for Chrissy to be dragged to the pyre. But nothing happened. Instead, Billy kept giving him that stupid smirk. He was everywhere, just lingering at the edges on Eddie's vision, leaning against the wall and the door and the lockers, eyes never leaving Eddie.

But nothing happened.

The others, of course, noticed it too.

“Why is Billy Hargrove staring at you, Eddie?” Gareth asked during lunch, not looking at Eddie but something behind him; Billy, no doubt.

Eddie resisted the urge to turn around, kept chewing on the granola bar he'd found at the bottom of his bag, probably been there for months now, but it still tasted okay.

“Wish I knew, Emerson, wish I knew.”

Steve was sitting next to him, eating his own lunch. Unlike Eddie, though, he did turn around. “He's a total creep. Ticking time bomb. He almost knocked my teeth in first practice after summer 'cause I accidentally shoulder-checked him.”

“'m not surprised,” Eddie said. “He's got a short fuse.”

They all nodded in quiet commiseration, each intimately familiar with just how short Billy's fuse could be.

Robin took a deep breath, then. “Daniel from band, you know, his cousin's on the cheer team and she's dating Patrick what's his name, anyway, he said that Billy's, like, your brother or something?”

Eddie blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Trying to parse through the word vomit to get to the meaning underneath. “He's my half-sister's half-brother.”

Steve chocked on his bologna sandwich, just a little bit, frowning at Eddie. “Your half-sister's half-brother? How the hell does that happen?”

“Hmm, how 'bout we leave the details of my family drama to a time I'm a little less sober, Stevie,” Eddie quipped with a sardonic grin, which Steve met beat for beat.

“I'll hold you to that.”

“Oh, I hope you will.” Eddie winked, forgetting, for maybe half a second where he was, until Jeff loudly cleared his throat from across the table, bringing Eddie back to reality.

He looked around – Grant and Gareth both looked like they'd just swallowed a lemon, while Robin's eyes had gone wide enough that Eddie was worried they might roll straight out of her head of she wasn't careful.

Steve also cleared his throat, taking a pointed bite out of his sandwich and shifting back in his seat, bringing some distance between himself and Eddie that felt like a bucket of cold water over his head.

“I gotta take a piss,” he announced, grabbing his back and stuffing the remains of his sad lunch into his mouth, making a quick exit before anybody could say anything else.

He walked quickly, past the toilets closest to the cafeteria, past the ones by the reception, and threw open the doors of the men's room to the back of the building. People barely used it at the best of times unless they wanted to sneak a quick cigarette. He found it complete empty.

“Shit.”

Because he'd said friends, because he'd said he'd get over it, because he'd sworn to himself that he would make himself hope.

Because Steve was being so good about this whole thing, and Eddie kind of almost wished he wasn't because it was making it so much harder.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

He was leaning with both arms on the skin, head hung low, trying not to replay the moment when Steve had pulled back from him in his head over and over and over again, when Steve's smile, teasing and sly, had dimmed and dimmed and vanished, when the realisation had sunk in that Eddie had been flirting with him.

Outside the bathroom, Eddie heard footsteps in the hall, just enough warning to straighten up and school his face to something neutral before the door opened.

It was Billy.

He looked smug as he entered, and not at all surprised to see Eddie, like he'd followed him or something.

Eddie clenched his jaw, squared his shoulders. “What do you want?”

With his usual, slimy ease, Billy stepped forward, giving Eddie a once over that sent shivers down Eddie’s spine and made his hairs stand on end. And there was that smirk again, the one that promised blood.

“I don't think Carver would like you moving in on his girl.”

Eddie didn't sigh, and he didn't roll his eyes, no matter how much he may have wanted to. He met Billy's gaze head on. “I'm sure he wouldn't,” he said, “If that was happening. Which it isn't.”

Billy stepped closer still, all but backing Eddie up against the sinks. “I was surprised, you know, I didn't think you played for Chrissy's team, if you catch my drift.”

Fist clenching by his side, Eddie made sure to not react. “What do you want,” he asked again.

Billy smelled of deodorant, the scent almost overwhelming from this close. Eddie wanted to gag, wanted to wash out his mouthwash and his nose, just to get rid of it.

“Let's talk about that family discount again.”

“Are you kidding me.” Eddie let out a laugh against his will. “You're gonna blackmail me for cheaper weed?”

Billy shrugged. “Unless you want Carver to hear all about what you get up to with his girlfriend when he isn't looking.”

Groaning in frustration, Eddie placed both hands against Billy's chest and pushed. He went easily, not putting up much resistance, at least. “I'm not getting up to anything with Chrissy. We slept in separate rooms, Jesus Christ.”

“Oh, I believe you. But will Carver?”

He wouldn't, of course, wouldn't even give Eddie the chance to explain. But they both knew that.

Pushing down on the queasy feeling in his stomach, Eddie sighed. “20%” he offered through gritted teeth.

Billy grinned. There was triumph in his eyes. “50.”

“25. Unless you wanna start paying your own rent.”

The grin on Billy's face slipped, just a little bit, something like doubt overshadowing the triumph, because Billy wasn't stupid. He knew they were struggling with money. And under any other circumstances, Eddie would have felt vindicated by that, would have patted himself on the shoulder because he'd made Billy Hargrove stumble. But as it was, the satisfaction tasted ashen on his tongue.

“30,” Billy finally responded, “Or I tell Carver what I saw.”

Eddie sighed again. “Fine. 30%.” If it would get him out of those conversation, Eddie was pretty certain there was very little he wouldn't do.

And, thankfully, the bell rang in that moment, announcing lunch over.

“I'll find you later,” Billy said, a threat and a promise, before he left the bathroom.

Eddie was late for class. He didn't didn't think he cared.

“Are you sure he didn't say anything?” Eddie asked for the third time in a row.

Jeff shook his head. Eddie knew it would be the last time because Jeff was losing his patience with him. “Yes, Eddie, I'm sure. He looked a little confused when you ran out on us like that, but that's it. Worried, maybe, but we all were.”

The two of them were sitting outside Eddie's trailer after Jeff had shown up unannounced to check if Eddie was okay. Inside, Wayne was quietly puttering about, getting ready for work. He'd already convinced Jeff to stay for dinner.

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Jeff waved him off. “Did Hargrove say anything? I know he followed you.”

Eddie shook his head. It was nothing. Because telling him about the blackmail, if it could even be called that, would just worry him more.

And in the days that followed, Eddie kept expecting things to change – for Billy to announce to the whole world that Chrissy was cheating on Carver, for Steve to really realise that Eddie had flirted with him in the middle of the cafeteria – but they didn't. Nothing changed.

Eddie gave Billy his 30% off and that's as far as their interactions ever went.

And Steve remained the way he always was these days. He wasn't lonely anymore, and in his not-loneliness, he bloomed.

Steve sat with them during lunch and he told jokes that really weren't all that funny, but Eddie laughed anyway just to see that proud little glint in Steve's eyes. And Steve watched and listened as they talked about D&D, and sometimes he asked questions like why are there so many dice, and what the hell is a modifier, and Eddie happily answered them all even if Steve kept coming up with increasingly ridiculous names for the game – Dices and Dumbasses was probably his favourite so far.

Sometimes, Steve shared his lunch with Eddie – “Because I know you forget to bring any” – and Eddie always struggled on those days not to grin and wink and say things like sweetheart and darling and princess. More often than not, he failed. The words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them. And sometimes Eddie forgot not to touch, his hands reaching out all on their own to lie on Steve's shoulder or Steve's arm or Steve's hand. Except Steve didn't pull away again, instead he averted his eyes and sometimes he smiled and Eddie swore he could see the occasional blush creeping up his cheeks.

None of the others ever said anything, simply pretended like it wasn't happening, and Eddie had the creeping suspicion that he had Jeff to thank for that.

And as Eddie settled more and more into this new normal that was unfolding around him, a normal in which Steve was there, he realised he didn't ever want a normal in which Steve wasn't there, and that – that was a problem. Because there was a feeling he got whenever Steve smiled at him, hundreds of thousands of little larvae crawling and wriggling and squirming through his insides, and Eddie wasn't stupid. He knew what it meant. And the knowledge was bittersweet, because it wasn't a bad feeling, but Steve would never return it because he wasn't like that. Not like Eddie.

But it was enough.

It had to be enough.

Chapter Text

The plan was as follows: after school, Eddie was going to drive himself and Max home, they'd have a quick dinner, courtesy of Wayne, they'd both get ready, Eddie was going to drop Max off on main street to meet up with her not-friends for trick-or-treating and a spooky sleepover in Nancy Wheeler's basement, and then he'd go to Steve's house for a friends-only get together. Not a party. Because there was a difference.

They hit a snag almost immediately because Max was late for her pick up.

Eddie was leaning against the van, one foot propped up on the tire, idly smoking a cigarette and staring in the direction of the middle school. He had a half a mind to go looking for Max but also knew that, with his luck, they'd walk straight past each other without noticing and this whole thing would take even longer. Better to just wait.

The guys had already left, promising they'd be at Steve's as well, even though Gareth hadn't exactly looked thrilled about the prospect of spending Halloween like this. Jeff and Grant seemed pretty stoked though, and Robin was going to be there as well, so it would at least be a fun night with friends, if nothing else.

He was still waiting on word from Chrissy.

She'd been distant these last few days. Withdrawn. Barely speaking two words to Eddie and not quite meeting his eyes. He'd asked if she was alright, of she needed help, of her mum was giving her trouble again, but she'd just waved him off, insisted she'd be fine.

“I'm just tired.”

“What kind of tired?”

“Not the kind you need to worry about. I promise, Eddie. I'll be fine.”

And the thing was, Eddie believed her. Chrissy was strong, so much stronger than maybe even she knew, and she would be fine. Didn't stop Eddie from worrying about her though; that just came with the job description of being a friend.

Finally – Eddie was just about to finish his smoke and had started considering sending out a search party – a familiar head of red hair rounded the corner, skateboard in her hand, and a thundering look on her face.

“Let's go, we're already behind schedule,” she snapped at him as soon as he was in earshot, rushing past him to the passenger side of the van.

Eddie hummed. “And whose fault is that?” he mused, taking his sweet time to finish the last drag of the cigarette. He couldn't see Max's face, but he could feel the glare she was sending his way.

“Can we please leave,” she gritted out through her teeth.

Eddie took pity on her, flicking the cigarette away and climbing behind the wheel. He only spared a fleeting glance at Max before he started the engine. She looked properly pissed, not just her usual grumpiness.

“Did something happen?” he asked, aiming for casual because he knew how Max hated to be cuddled.

“I'm fine,” she spat out, arms crossed and shoulders drawn up high.

Eddie remained silent. He knew the drill by now. If Max wanted to tell him, she would, and if she didn't, prying would only redirect her wrath towards him. Instead, he pulled out of the school parking lot to drive home.

And it didn't take long for Max to cave. She scoffed and huffed and then started restlessly rifling through Eddie's tapes before abandoning those as well. “Some jerks were making fun of Lucas and his friends because they were wearing their costumes to school. I just wanted to make sure they're okay.”

Eddie nodded. He was fully aware that Max would kill him without hesitation if he pointed out how that was sweet of her, so he didn't, but the thought did cross his mind.

“Are they? Okay?”

He could see Max nodding her head from the corner of his eye. “I just don't like bullies.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

They spent the rest of the drive in silence, the mood a little more dampened than usual.

It wasn't fair. Kids that age could be so cruel already.

Idly, he wondered what Steve might have been like in middle school. He didn't think he remembered him from back then at all, which would only make sense considering Steve was a year younger than him and hadn't hit his true height of popularity until high school. And at that point, Eddie had already comfortably settled into his spot at the very bottom of the social food chain.

Once at the trailer park, they each jumped out of the van and went to their respective homes to get ready. Billy's car was notably missing.

He'd been getting discounted weed from Eddie quite a lot recently, probably preparing for tonight. Trying to make himself more popular, maybe. Eddie had half a mind to tell him that the people he was trying to impress would always look down on him just a little bit simply because he lived where he lived, no matter how much he postured and flexed his muscles.

Inside the trailer, Wayne was already waiting with dinner, giving Eddie a tired smile.

Eddie smiled back. “Hey. Sorry we're late. Let me just dump this in my room and I'll help you with dinner.”

“No need.” Wayne waved him off. “I'll let ya know when it's ready. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine. Max was just hanging with her friends.”

The tired smile on Wayne's face grew brighter, fonder. He looked proud. “'m glad she's settled in okay.”

“Me too, man. Me too.”

And then Eddie went on to his room, dumping his shit and getting started at pulling together his costume – the tightest leather pants he could find, a loose, silky, black shirt with a generous number of undone buttons, necklaces hanging from his neck, thick eyeliner, black eyeshadow, mascara, black lipstick, and fake vamp teeth to really round off the look.

Wayne didn't even blink at the get up, more than used to Eddie's eccentrics by now, and instead just gestured at the table where dinner was waiting.

“Max'll be here in a second,” he said.

Eddie sat, his stomach grumbling a little, but he patiently waited for Max to show up.

“And what are you supposed to be?” asked Eddie, not really seeing much of a change to how she'd looked before.

“Michael Myers, duh.” She held up the mask to her face and raised a shoddy plastic knife covered in fake blood.

Eddie gasped, made a real show and production of his shock. “You call that a costume?” he asked. “I'm ashamed to even be related to you!”

Predictably, Max rolled her eyes. “Shuddup.”

They ate, Wayne asking a few questions about Max's new friends, which Max reluctantly answered – yes they were all her age, yes they were gonna stick together during trick or treating, no Mike Wheeler's parents were not going to be there for the sleepover, no Max was not planning on drinking or smoking. That last one in particular was probably more due to all the trouble Eddie had gotten into when he'd been her age than any real worry that Max would do the same. He'd trained Wayne well.

When it was time to go, Wayne made sure to slip a tenner into Max's hand just in case, and made her promise to be careful and not do anything foolish.

“Same goes for you, Ed,” he tagged on, and Eddie gave him his most beatrific smile.

“Foolish? Me? Never!”

Wayne chuckled, a low and grumbling sound, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Get outta here, both of you. And have fun.”

“We will. See ya tomorrow!”

Max was meeting her friends on Main Street and the sidewalks were already packed with children and families going from door to door to collect candy. They found the four boys, all dressed as Ghostbusters, and a girl Eddie didn't think he'd ever seen before with a sick skeleton design in her face standing outside the arcade.

“Hey,” he said just before Max could get out of the van. She looked at him, impatient. “Here's Steve's number,” he told her, pressing the piece of paper into her hand, “If you need anything, you call, alright? Doesn't matter why or when. You call and I come running.”

Max stared at the paper for a second, looked at Eddie, looked back at the paper. Then, she sighed and took it. “Nothing's gonna happen,” she said, though it sounded less like her usual complaints and more like a reassurance, like she was trying to calm his worries.

Eddie still felt better knowing she had a way of getting in touch with him if she needed it.

He did stick around just for a moment to watch Max greet her friends, the way they smiled at her, the way she made them laugh.

He really was so glad she'd settled in okay.

Once the group of kids had started walking, all keeping close to each other, Eddie left as well. He made sure to drive carefully, not wanting to run over a stray child wandering into the streets.

At Steve's, he parked the van in the driveway, right behind Steve's fancy-ass BMW. There was another car that Eddie vaguely recognised from the school parking lot, though he couldn't be sure about the owner, and he'd spotted Jeff's dad's car down the street, which meant the guys were already here.

Checking his makeup and hair in the mirror one last time, Eddie exited the van and joined the not-party.

The first, last, and only time Eddie ever attended a fully-licensed, original Steve Harrington party was at the very end of his Junior year. Dom dragged him along, something about crashing the court of the King just once now that he was no longer a student. And Eddie rolled his eyes and made a show of putting up a fight, but secretly he was mighty pleased that Dom had chosen him to go to a party with. Not his sister. Not Jeff. Him.

He was over his little crush, mostly anyway, but there was still some part of him that basked in the attention, took those little scraps and turned them into a patchwork of fantasy. Unlike before though, the knowledge and certainty that it would forever remain fantasy didn't hurt anymore. Dom was his friend, after all. But it was fun just imagine, sometimes, to have little daydreams, to play around with the what-if like little action figures in his mind.

Thanks for bringing me, action figure Eddie would say.

And action figure Dom would smile at him in a way he'd never smiled at Eddie before. I've always thought you were special, Ed. Wanna have some fun? And he would wink and spindle in closely and the two of them would laugh and dance and maybe even kiss, right there in the middle of Steve Harrington’s fancy ass living room.

The real Dom was shooing Eddie along into the kitchen where the drinks were.

There was a surprising amount of people mingling all over the place, as if half the school had shown up.

“Whose party is this again?” Eddie asked after they'd pushed their way through and each secured a bottle of the good beer.

“Steve Harrington,” Dom answered, dragging out the name with a mocking curl of his lips. “The new shining light of the Tigers.”

“The what now?”

“The Tigers,” Dom repeated. It didn't make any more sense the second time. “Our basketball team?”

Eddie stared blankly. “Do I look like someone who's invested in high school basketball?”

“What, you telling me you never went to a game just to look at the cheerleaders?” Dom asked with a grin and a wink that almost didn't make Eddie's heart skip a beat.

“Can't say I have.”

Dom rolled his eyes at him, hopping up to sit on the kitchen counter, sipping his beer. “He's a Sophomore, but he's already making big waves. Hence the party, I'm guessing.” He shrugged. “Anyway. We -” He emphasised, waving his beer around as he pointed at himself and Eddie “- are here to celebrate, kid.”

“And what exactly are we celebrating?”

Dom beamed, his whole face lighting up. “My graduation. And your promotion to leader of the Hellfire club.”

There was a moment, it didn't last long but it was there, where Eddie had to take a step back, take stock of himself, pinch his arm, look at the open beer in his hand he'd barely even touched yet, make sure this wasn't action figure Dom playing make-believe in his mind. And it wasn't. This was real.

“Seriously?” he asked anyway, just to make extra sure.

Dom let out a very unattractive snort. “Seriously seriously,” he confirmed. “What? D'you think I'd give the spot to Jeff?”

“Yeah! Kinda!”

“Well I'm not. You're a good DM. You proved that during our last campaign.”

And just like that, realisation sunk in. “That was a test,” Eddie said, because it didn't even need to be a question anymore. He already knew.

Dom looked real pleased with himself, smugly drinking his beer. “And you passed with flying colours, kid. Congratulations!”

They celebrated. There was beer and there was shots and there was Dom smiling at him in a way he'd never smiled at Eddie before.

And then Eddie blinked and the smile was gone, back to normal.

There was a girl there that Eddie was certain was not from their school but she was tall and her eyes never left Dom. Dom noticed. And then that was it.

Eddie knew the drill, had gone through it enough times at the Hideout to not even be annoyed by it anymore – he knew Dom would go over to her, knew he would fuck her in the bathroom or, if Harrington's house was as fancy as it looked, a guest bedroom, knew he would stay for one more drink and a cigarette afterwards, knew he would smell of sweat and sex and no regrets.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I -”

“Go,” Eddie said before Dom could even finish his question. “I'll entertain myself and I'll get myself home later. Don't worry about it.”

“Thanks, kid! I owe you won.”

And then Dom was gone to flirt with the girl and Eddie was left behind trying not to think about just how much he would be owed if he was to ever actually cash all of it in.

He finished his drink, got a new one from the kitchen. He didn't particularly want another drink but it meant not watching Dom and it would give him something to do. A distraction.

Beer in hand, he ventured outside. The air was warm and filled with the sounds of the party. Some people must have already left because in the backyard he only found a handful of smokers and one couple committed to eating each other's faces on one of the deckchairs. He looked around, hoping, perhaps, to find a familiar face, but there was none. Instead, his eyes fell on a guy standing in the shadows of the house, wistfully watching the couple on the deckchair. He didn't look like he was having a great time, and Eddie could empathise. Vaguely, he thought he recognised him as one of the rare lone wolf types that passed in and out of cliques and friend groups without ever actually belonging to any of them, a social chameleon that changed colours by what was required of them. He was handsome in a way a flea-ridden stray dog could be handsome, like there was potential underneath the dirt and matted fur. More importantly, though, he looked like he could use a little pick-me-up.

Hastily, Eddie reached into his pocket for the pack of cigarettes he'd swiped from Wayne earlier – inside were two joints, courtesy of Dom who'd bought them off Reefer Rick – and approached the boy in the shadows. He did it slowly, intentionally, not wanting to spook the guy. And he made sure to leave a little distance once he was there, back leaning against the wall, one foot propped up. Casual and confident.

“Not enjoying the party?” he asked, one of the joints already between his lips and lighter raised with purpose.

The boy flicked his eyes over at Eddie, up and down the long line of his body, getting stuck on the joint. “Do I know you?” he asked, not unfriendly, but cautious.

Eddie curled his lips. “Not yet you don't.” He took the first hit, took a second one, let the silence drag out a little longer before offering the joint up to his new companion. “Eddie Munson, at your service.”

The boy accepted the joint and there was something like curiosity in his eyes now, something like appreciation. “Kevin Keegan.”

“Charmed, I'm sure.”

One hour later, Eddie found himself in the woods behind Steve Harrington's house, his head a little hazy from the weed and the arousal as he pressed Kevin Keegan against a tree, lips and tongues and hands exploring each other with a confidence Eddie didn't really feel. And it was everything and nothing like what Eddie had imagined it to be, because it wasn't Dom, but it was someone. Someone willing. Someone reciprocating. Someone real.

It wasn't a party.

Steve had opened the door with a wide grin, not unlike a puppy begging for treats, the sight of him making Eddie's heart melt just a little bit.

“You're here!”

“You did invite me,” Eddie had pointed out.

That's when Steve had apparently clocked the costume because his grin had slipped, just a little, eyes roaming up and down Eddie's body, and it was concerningly easy to pretend like that was appreciation on Steve's face.

“You – uh – you look good. Scary, I mean. Very appropriate.”

It was easier, still, to grin and take in Steve’s cowboy getup, chaps and all. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

It wasn't a party. And yet Steve had gone all out with the drinks and the food – there was beer and vodka and whiskey, frozen pizza and garlic bread, buckets of popcorn and candy. The music playing in the background sounded strangely familiar.

“Dude. Are you playing Metallica?”

Steve shrugged, not quite meeting Eddie's eye. If Eddie didn't know better, he'd almost say Steve looked sheepish. “It's Halloween,” he said, like that was an explanation. “'sides. I thought you might prefer this over, like, Black Eyed Peas.”

Eddie didn't swoon and his heart didn't skip a beat and his lungs didn't give out, but it was a near thing. His face did feel a little hot, though. “Aww,” he teased. “All this for little old me? You shouldn't have, sweetheart.”

It made Steve avoid eye contact even harder and he gave Eddie a little shove. “Shut up.” But there was no bite to it, and Eddie grinned victoriously.

He kind of liked getting under Steve's skin.

The others were hanging around the living room, Robin and the band and also, to Eddie's surprise, Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers. The latter two sat a little on the sidelines, shoulders flush together, backs straight and hands folded on their laps, like they weren't quite sure what to do with themselves. Then, Grant joined them, easily roping them into a conversation and making them both laugh.

And it was fun, this. Laid back and casual, just a group of friends spending time together. Gareth and Jeff joined Grant in the corner, and Eddie could hear bits and pieces of a pretty intense discussion about about horror movies with Jonathan until Nancy apparently decided she'd had enough and sought refuge with Robin and Eddie, while Steve had fully transformed into a social butterfly, flitting back and forth and to and from, making sure everyone had a full cup at all times and smiling to himself.

And he was watching Eddie.

At first, Eddie thought he was imagining it. Wishful thinking. But then he caught Steve quickly turning his head away and making too good an impression of an attentive listener one too many times and he could feel the weight of Steve's eyes on him. It was a nice feeling. A warm and cozy blanket on a chilly winter's day, hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows on top, the knowledge of home.

He wasn't sure what to do with it.

The music changed when Robin commandeered the stereo and demanded everyone gather around for a slightly intoxicated game of Twister.

It was a wholly undignified affair and yet, perhaps, the most fun Eddie had had in ages – contorting his body in ways a human body should not be contorted, having Gareth's armpit squished into his nose while he was sticking his ass into Nancy's face, his thighs screaming for mercy and Robin loudly laughing at all of them. He got his vindication in the next round, though, when Robin got buried underneath Steve and Jeff, yelping and howling like a hurt animal.

“Fuck, I need a smoke,” Eddie said, more to himself than anyone else, already walking up to the patio doors.

“Want some company?” Steve asked, scrambling up to his feet. Robin gave him a particularly judgemental look for that one, but remained quiet.

“From you? Always, Stevie.”

They went outside, the air chilly and misty. Eddie shivered, pressing his back hard against the wall as if that could somehow warm him up. Steve stood next to him, their arms brushing as Eddie offered him a smoke.

“Thanks. Do you have -”

Before Steve could finish the question, Eddie held up his lighter and gestured for Steve to lean forward so he could light up for both of them, the tips of their cigarettes touching.

And Steve stayed close as they both blew out smoke, his body heat like a beacon in the dark.

Steve cleared his throat, then, a little awkward, and he tried to cover it up by taking a drag from his cig. “Thanks for coming.”

Eddie chuckled, ignoring the way his heart hammered in his chest. He nudged Steve's shoulder. “How could I possibly miss the event of the season?” he joked. "I mean. A Steve Harrington party? And I was invited by the man himself? A no-brainer, really.”

He was only half joking, really. Because not going never had been an option. Because they were friends now. Because Steve had invited him.

“Not a party,” Steve protested weakly, more token than anything. “I'm not sure you would have liked one of those.”

“I didn't.”

“You've been?”

Eddie nodded around his cigarette, thinking back to that one night. The night he'd met Kev. The night he'd finally, fully gotten over Dom. “Once. Last year. Some start of summer rager you threw.”

Next to him, Steve nodded. Eddie could feel it through their connected bodies. “I remember that one. That's the night I got together with Nancy.”

Instinctively, Eddie turned his head, trying to look through the windows into the house, to catch a glimpse of the girl in question, but the angle was all wrong.

“I'll be honest,” he said quietly, glancing back at Steve, “I was surprised to see her here tonight. Byers too. Wasn't sure you were friends.”

“We're trying to be, I think,” Steve answered. “It wasn't her fault she loved Jonathan. You can't control how you feel.” If that last bit sounded a little pointed, Eddie ignored it. It wasn't a dig, he knew, quite the opposite, in fact, like Steve was, once again, assuring him that it was fine.

“How very mature of you.”

There was a soft smile playing around Steve's lips, a soft chuckle escaping him, a soft look in his eyes too as he met Eddie's gaze. And from this close, Eddie thought he could count every eyelash, could smell the cigarette and the beer and Steve's hairspray, could hear the steady flow of air in and out and in and out and in and out of Steve's nose.

He swallowed, his mouth incredibly dry, his tongue licking his lips.

Steven eyes dropped down, following the movement. They lingered there, on Eddie's mouth.

They were so, so very close.

“Please stop looking at me like that,” Eddie whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “It might give a guy ideas.”

Steve blinked, his eyes jumping up to meet Eddie's, back down and back up. He wasn't moving away. “Eddie -”

Inside the house, the phone started ringing, shortly followed by Robin's voice. “Steve! Phone!”

Steve closed his eyes but didn't move. Not yet. He stayed close and breathed and there was regret on his face. Pain.

“Steve -” Eddie tried to say at the same time Robin called out again.

Steve sighed. “I should get that.”

And then he was gone. Just like that.

Eddie released a shaky breath, his eyes stinging, vision blurry. He was shivering, he realised, and it wasn't due to the cold.

“Fuck.” Fingers digging deep into own hair, Eddie pulled.

Because -

Because Steve hadn't moved away.

Because had looked at him like that.

Because Eddie could have sworn they'd almost kissed.

“What the fuck.”

Except Steve was a little drunk, and Eddie wished he could be drunk too, if only so there was a chance to forget this had ever happened, but he couldn't. He couldn't get drunk because he'd promised himself to not do that. Not tonight. Not of Max had no other way to get home if she needed to.

Being a responsible older brother kind of sucked.

And he could still smell Steve, could still feel the electricity tingling under his skin where they'd almost touched, could still see the look on Steve's face, now etched into his mind forever.

“Eddie.” And that's as Steve's voice, calling his name and when Eddie turned his head, Steve was there, standing in the open patio doors, backlit by the living room.

He was beautiful.

“Phone for you,” Steve went on to say, as if nothing had happened, because nothing had happened. “Some kid named Max?”

And just like that, Eddie was moving, rushing inside to take the phone from Steve.

“Max?” he asked, a sick feeling spreading through his stomach. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” said Max's voice through the receiver and she sounded fine. “It's not me.”

Eddie frowned. “What? It's not you? What does that mean? Why are you -”

“We're back on Main,” Max cut in to Eddie's frantic babbling. “We were just on our way to Mike's, and we – uh – we found your friend? Chrissy or whatever her name is? She's just – she's just sitting there. Like. On the curb? I think she might have been crying?”

Eddie swallowed down the bile rising up his throat and nodded his head. “Okay. Is she hurt?”

“I don't think so.”

“Right. Right. Main Street, you said?”

“Yeah. Just outside the Arcade. I'm on the payphone.”

Again, Eddie nodded his head. “Alright. Can you stay with her for a bit? I'm on my way.”

Max sighed. “Fine. But hurry up.”

Eddie ended the call, his head spinning. He turned to find everyone looking at him, matching expressions of concern and worry and confusion.

“I – I gotta go. It's Chrissy. I think she needs help. Sorry.” The last word was directed at Steve specifically, who shook his head.

“Yeah, no, of course. Go. Are you good to drive?”

“More than you,” Eddie pointed out with a look at the beer bottle Steve was still carrying around.

Steve followed his gaze and blushed l, setting the bottle down. He made an aborted motion towards Eddie, as if he wanted to step closer, reach out, maybe, but ultimately thought better of it and stayed where he was.

And Eddie didn't have time to think about that, to think about any of it. Instead, he double checked that he had all his things, and then jogged out front to his van.

Max was exactly where she'd said she'd be, standing with her friends outside the Arcade, perfectly unharmed and in one piece, surrounded by her friends. And there, sitting on the curb, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, was Chrissy. She immediately looked up when Eddie approached in his van, no doubt recognising it, and even though Eddie couldn't quite see her face, he already knew he'd made the right call. It was in the way she held herself, small and tense, that told Eddie it was bad.

He jumped out, not even bothering to park properly, and exchanged a nod with Max.

“You guys okay to get home or do you need a ride?” he asked, because even though he was here for Chrissy didn't mean he couldn't play chauffeur for a bunch of children.

“We're fine,” said Max decisively. “But you're welcome to pick me up from Mike's in the morning.”

Eddie gave her a sloppy salute. “You got it, boss.” Then, he turned to Chrissy, approaching slowly. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Her voice sounded choked and wet. Now that he was closer, he could also see the red blotches and wet tracks on her face.

“Are you hurt?”

Chrissy shook her head, hugging herself a little tighter. “I broke up with Jason.”

Quickly, Eddie lowered himself to sit next to her. Max and her friends were retreating down the street, giving them the privacy they clearly needed.

“How'd that go?”

“Not well.”

And Eddie wasn't surprised to hear that, would have been more surprised if it had gone well, but maybe some part of him had still hoped for the impossible.

“He yelled at me,” Chrissy whispered, more tears rolling down her cheeks. “He said – he said I didn't deserve him, anyway. That he'd been doing me a favour. That no one would ever love me again.”

“Jason's a liar,” Eddie told her. “It's him who doesn't deserve you. And you will be loved. You are loved. So, so much.” Gently, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in. Chrissy went willingly, welcoming the embrace.

“I don't even know why I'm upset,” she muttered into his collarbone. “This is what I wanted.”

“You're allowed to be upset even if it's what you wanted. He hurt you, Chrissy.”

“He didn't,” Chrissy was quick to argue, shaking her head.

“Not physically, maybe. But he still hurt you.”

To that, Chrissy said nothing. She didn't need to.

And it wasn't long before Eddie's limbs began to ache and the two of them started holding onto each other for warmth more than comfort, and they knew they probably needed to move.

“Home?” Eddie asked, “Or my place?” He was fairly certain he already knew the answer.

“Your place?” Chrissy asked, and Eddie nodded easily, helping her up to her feet.

She seemed steadier now. More certain of herself. Like she was already settling the new person she was becoming, no longer the girl that got play married by her parents, but someone who allowed herself to have dreams.

The drive was quiet, at first, as were the streets, and Eddie kept the volume of the mud turned down low.

Then, Chrissy spoke. “I'm sorry.”

“The hell are you sorry for?”

“Ruining your night?”

Eddie frowned. “You didn't,” he said firmly, because it was true. Chrissy hadn't ruined anything.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Chrissy looking at him, a strange expression on her face that Eddie couldn't quite read. All he knew was that she didn't believe him. “You were with Steve,” was all she said.

“Yeah. I was. And then I heard that one of my best friends is having a tough time so of course I came.” He reached across to her, briefly giving her thigh a light squeeze, hoping it was enough. Because of course he'd come. It hadn't even been a question.

He did tell Chrissy a little bit about Steve's get together, though. Mainly about Twister. It made her laugh which had been his main goal, and by the time he pulled up to the trailer, it was almost like normal, like nothing was wrong at all. And maybe it wasn't. Because Chrissy was strong, and she'd always been too big for Carver, too big for Hawkins, too. She'd get through this and come out better on the other end, and she'd finally get to live life on her own terms, and Eddie could only pray and hope that he would still be a part of it, in the end.

“It's late,” Eddie pointed out once they were inside, “We should probably get some sleep.”

Chrissy nodded. Eddie got the feeling that she was crashing hard now after everything, her eyes small and drooping.

“Do you mind if we share the bed? I can't do another night on the cot. My back won't survive it.”

“Of course,” Chrissy answered, with zero hesitation, like she didn't even need to think about it. “We could have done that last time as well.”

“I was trying to be nice.”

Chrissy smiled. “I knew you were sweet.”

“Am not!” Eddie protested, leading Chrissy to his bedroom. It was a bit of a mess, because it always was, but he didn't think Chrissy cared all that much, so neither did he.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” Chrissy shot back, sitting down on the edge of the mattress to take off her shoes.

Eddie put on a bit of a show at being offended and followed her example.

It was easy, after that. Getting ready for bed together, crawling under the covers, lying side by side.

“Good night, Eddie.”

“Night, Chris.”

Chapter Text

Eddie woke up too hot and feeling like he was being crushed. He slowly blinked his eyes open, craning his neck.

Chrissy, at some point during the night, had migrated half on top of his chest, her hairy tickling his nose. His bladder felt uncomfortably tight.

“Chrissy,” he grumbled, lightly tapping her on the arm. “Chrissy, wake up.”

Chrissy shifted, just a little, snuggling even deeper into Eddie.

“Chrissy, I gotta get up, dude.”

Chrissy shifted again, mumbling something Eddie couldn't understand, but at least it looked like she was waking up.

“Chrissy?”

Chrissy lifted her head, blinking slowly. Then, her eyes widened and she scrambled back, almost falling off the bed. “Oh my god! I am so sorry, I don't know why I -”

“It's fine,” Eddie quickly cut in, sitting up himself. “I just gotta piss.”

It worked to wipe some of the emerging panic off Chrissy's face. She grimaced. “Charming.”

“I am a gentleman,” Eddie said with a lopsided grin and a wink, quickly climbing out from under the covers to go to the toilet.

When he returned to his room, Chrissy was still where he'd left her, a far off look on her face.

“Eddie, I -”

“That better not be another apology out of your mouth.”

“- appreciate you letting me stay over,” Chrissy finished pointedly, and Eddie could almost belief that that was what she'd been meaning to say from the get go.

“Any time.” He meant it. Whatever Chrissy needed, Eddie would do his damn best to provide. “D'you want coffee or anything?”

“Is that okay?”

“Course it is.”

It was still early and Wayne wasn't back yet, but Eddie made a full pot anyway, heavily leaning on the counter to watch the water drip-drip-dripping through the filter. Chrissy joined him, dressed in Eddie's clothes again. She looked comfy like that.

“How're you holding up over there?” Eddie asked.

Chrissy shrugged, her eyes looking all around the trailer, getting caught on Wayne's trucker hat collected and the mugs on the wall. “I still can't believe I actually did it,” she said. “It doesn't feel real yet.”

“It will.”

“I know. And I'm glad I did it. But I'm not looking forward for what my mum is going to say when I get home.”

Right. The Mrs. Cunningham of it all.

“My door is always open if you need me,” Eddie promised. “What about your dad?” Because it occurred to him that, during all their conversations, she'd never actually mentioned him.

“He lives a town over. They've been separated for about two years now? I think it's part of the reason mum is the way she is. She's ashamed.”

Slowly, Eddie nodded, an idea forming in his head. “And you? Do you get along with him?”

“I do. We talk on the phone a lot and sometimes he visits but I don't think he likes coming to Hawkins 'cause he doesn't want to run into mum.”

“Look,” said Eddie, “I don't – I might be totally talking outta my ass here, but – could you call him? Tell him everything that's happened? Maybe even stay with him for a bit?”

Chrissy bit down on her lip, her arms coming up to hug herself. “My mum -”

“Forget about her for a second. This is about you. Could you do that? Would you want to do that?”

Behind Eddie, the water stopped dripping, and he poured two mugs of coffee, handing one over to Chrissy.

“I can ask,” Chrissy said slowly. Haltingly.

“Good.”

Eddie hated this. He felt utterly useless, like there was nothing he could do. Because, sure, once she was 18, Mrs. Cunningham had no old over Chrissy anymore, but that was still a ways away, and even then she wouldn't be done with school yet. She was stuck. And Eddie just wanted to get her unstuck.

And it wasn't fair.

“And you can always call me. For whatever you need. Anytime.”

At that, Chrissy smiled. “I know.”

They drank their coffees in comfortable silence after that, the only sounds the ever-present noise of the trailer park.

Old Ms. Cooper was playing her classical music again.

Then, the phone rang.

“Mike's parents are home,” Max informed him, “Can you pick me up?”

And Eddie felt guilty when he relayed the message to Chrissy, because it also meant he'd be dropping her off at home. Returning her to the mother that made her miserable.

But he'd promised Max.

“I'll be okay, Eddie,” Chrissy assured him, confident in a way Eddie didn't think he'd ever seen her before when it came to her mother. Perhaps breaking up with Carver had helped her in more ways than one.

When they left, they passed Billy driving into the trailer park, his eyes hidden by a pair of sunglasses despite the lack of sun.

Eddie flipped him off.

Max was a terrible influence, he decided.

And once Chrissy was dropped off, assuring and reassuring him that she'd call her dad and she'd call him if she needed, he continued on to pick up Max. His stomach felt only a little queasy, guilt still sitting heavily on his heart.

He knew what it was like. It wasn't the same. But a bad parent was a bad parent.

Sometimes, Eddie wondered what things would have been like had his dad not left for good, had his mum not abandoned him, wondered what he would be like had he been rained by them instead of Wayne. Wondered what would have happened of Wayne hadn't taken him. He wondered if he would recognise himself.

And in a way, he thought, maybe he'd been lucky that things had worked out the way they had. Because he was here now and even though it wasn't perfect, it was his.

When Max climbed into the passenger seat, she was holding the silly Michael Myers mask in her hand. She was smiling.

“Good night?” he asked teasingly, watching as she struggled to get her expression to something more neutral.

“I guess,” she said with a shrug. “We're all going to the movies next weekend.”

“You gonna finally admit you're friends?”

“Never.”

Eddie laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, kiddo. Get some music going.”

They drove home to the tune of Grave Digger, finding Wayne's truck parked in its rightful place and Billy lurking outside the other trailer. His hair was wet, a cigarette pinched between his fingers, and he stalked closer when Eddie parked the van.

Eddie sighed. “Why don't you head inside,” he suggested to Max, gently steering her towards his trailer, away from whatever trouble Billy was going to make.

Max looked at him, looked at Billy, her face darkening, but she nodded, leaving without a single complaint. She was smart like that.

Then, Eddie turned to face Billy.

“I hear Chrissy broke it off with Carver,” Billy said, loud and boisterous, stepping ever closer until he could blow the smoke of his cigarette directly into Eddie's face.

“Is that what you heard?” Eddie responded mildly.

Billy hummed. “Also heard that Carver is looking for someone to blame.”

“Tell him to look in the mirror sometime.”

Billy ignored the dig, taking another drag. “Wouldn't have anything to do with you, would it?”

“Believe it or not,” Eddie said lowly, fighting hard to keep calm, “But Chrissy is her own person, capable of making her own decisions.”

“That why she stayed over last night? Again? Cause she made a decision?”

“Why? You jealous?” Eddie stepped closer, his body moving without his input as he reached up to take the cigarette straight from between Billy's lips and placing it between his own, welcoming the flash of anger and disgust on Billy's face. “Hate to break it to you, Hargrove, but I don't think you're her type.”

“I didn't think she was your type, Munson. Whatever happened to Harrington?”

At that, Eddie faltered. His hand went limp, cigarette falling to the ground. “What?”

Billy smirked. There was triumph in his eyes, but sharper. Crueller. A predator smelling blood. “You think I don't know?” he said, voice pitched real low, like a threat. “You've been drooling over him like a bitch in heat, doodling little hearts around his name in your notebook, writing him love letters.”

“What did you say?”

“Dear Stevie, I can't stop thinking about you because I'm a pathetic loser and I -”

Billy's back hit the side of the van before Eddie could fully process what he was doing. He thought he could hear someone calling his name somewhere off in the far distance, but all he could hear was blood pumping through his veins like hot lava, the static in his ears. There was a flash of something like fear in Billy's eyes, and Eddie pushed down harder against his throat.

“You,” his hissed. “It was you, wasn't it? What? You think it's funny? You trying to humiliate me?”

“Wha -”

“What the hell did I ever do to you -”

“Eddie stop!”

There was a hand on his shoulder, large and strong and gripping tight and pulling him back. Eddie stumbled, panting, staring at Billy who started coughing.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Billy spat out, rubbing a hand over his throat.

“The fuck is wrong with me? The fuck is wrong with you?” Eddie countered. “You break into my room, you steal from me -”

“I didn't steal shit!” Billy snapped, pushing himself off the van, taking one step towards Eddie, but Wayne was right there, standing between them now, hands extended to keep them apart.

“Enough!” he ordered. “Eddie, inside.”

But Eddie stood frozen, eyes locked with Billy. His blood was no longer rushing in his ears and his heart was no longer pounding in his chest and now he could see Max, standing a few paces away, uncharacteristically small, her shoulders drawn up and her arms wrapped around herself. She was scared.

Eddie had scared her.

“Now!” Wayne barked, and it was the sharp tone and the raised voice that finally snapped Eddie out of his trance.

Because Max was scared.

Because Wayne was angry.

He turned, an uncomfortable sense of numbness settling over him, and walked up to the trailer. Behind his back, he vaguely heard Wayne and Billy talking.

“You hurt?”

“He fucking attacked me!”

“Are you hurt, boy?”

“Don't fucking touch me!”

“I'm just tryina help.”

“Then make sure he stays away from me before I break his neck.”

The voices faded when the door swung closed behind him. His hands were shaking, he realised.

And he kept seeing Max in his mind.

He'd never meant to scare her.

The trailer door opened again, two sets of footsteps entering, one heavy, one barely audible, and Eddie turned to look at them.

There was that downturn to Wayne's lips, the one that had always reminded Eddie of his dad, though he didn't think it truly scared him anymore, because he knew Wayne and he trusted Wayne. And there was Max, eyes wide and none of her usual attitude anywhere in sight. It was the latter that threatened to shatter Eddie's heart into a million pieces because he'd done that.

“Sit.” Wayne jerked his head towards the couch without breaking eye contact.

Eddie sat.

“Now, you mind tellin' me what all that was about?”

“It was nothing,” said Eddie, terse and hollow. Without the spike in adrenaline he was left feeling drained.

“Don't you play me for a fool, son,” Wayne replied, not unkindly but still far from happy. He took the armchair with a heavy sigh, reaching for his cigarettes on the coffee table. He lit one, offered another to Eddie who accepted with a silent nod. In the dimness of the trailer, the bags under Wayne's eyes looked darker than usual, the deep creases on his forehead like rifts. He looked old. Tired.

“Eddie, I been giving you yer space, waiting for you to come to me, but I'm done waitin'. This. Pickin' fights? It ain't like you.”

“I keep telling you, Billy's a jerk,” Max piped up from where she was leaned against the kitchen counter.

Wayne shot her a look. “Language.”

“Please, as if I haven't heard you say worse,” said Max with a scoff and a roll of her eyes. She seemed more normal now, less freaked out, which put some of Eddie's anxiety to rest.

“Not about my own family you haven't,” said Wayne before turning back to Eddie. “Talk to me, son.”

“You wouldn't understand.”

“Then make me. Make me understand, Ed. Cause I know you've been strugglin' but I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong.”

“I -”

I don't need your help.

I don't want your help.

Nothing's wrong.

Except this was Wayne.

“I thought – but he was just saying shit to get under my skin, wasn't he? And I let him!”

Endlessly patient and too good for this world, Wayne asked, very calmly, “What are you talking about?”

“The letters!” Eddie snapped, regretting immediately when I've by the counter, Max flinched. “The letters,” he repeated, much more quieter but no less urgent, “I'm talking about the fucking letters. I thought he took them, but now -”

Because Billy hadn't known what he'd been talking about, that much Eddie believed. He'd just been trying to get a rise out of Eddie, mindlessly pushing buttons and hoping for a reaction.

“What letters?”

Eddie groaned in frustration, taking a drag from his smoke, another one, hoping it could bring him some peace, some clarity, some fucking guidance, but there was nothing there except for the familiar burn in his lungs. He welcomed it.

And Wayne was simply watching him. Waiting. He knew Eddie would talk now. Eventually. It was only a matter of time.

Eddie knew it too.

No point stalling any longer, he supposed.

“There was a shoebox,” he began to explain, “Under my bed. Personal shit. And in that box was a few, like, love letters, or whatever, that I've written over the years but that were never supposed to go anywhere. I never meant to send them. I just wanted to get the thoughts out of my head.”

He glanced at Wayne, checking that he was still following. Wayne gave an encouraging nod of his head.

“About a week into term, the box disappeared. Someone – I don't know – I guess someone must've broken into my room and taken it. And the letters. And they handed them out.”

For a moment, there was silence, almost. Outside, the world kept turning, but in here, everything had been put on pause. Wayne was still watching him, still waiting, because he knew it wasn't the full story. Except Eddie didn't know how to continue, meeting and holding Waynes gaze and pleading silently for help.

And because Wayne knew him better than anyone, he offered it. “That boy came by some while back,” he prompted, because he'd always been smarter than people have him credit for, “He have somethin' to do with this?”

Silently, Eddie nodded.

“So what? He a jealous boyfriend or something?”

At that, Eddie almost laughed. But only almost. He shook his head.

“Then what?”

“He – uh -” Eddie took one last steadying breath. This was Wayne, he told himself. Then, he took the plunge. “He's one of the guys that received a letter.”

There was a part of Eddie that had perhaps never grown up fully, that was still trapped in the shitty, little apartment in Indy with a mum that had stopped caring and a dad who had kept leaving, and it was that part now that made him want to close his eyes because if he couldn't see the disappointment and disgusting in Wayne's eyes then it wasn't there, because if he curled up in the corner and held very, very still then Wayne would forget he was even there.

There was another part of Eddie that knew it didn't work like that.

And this was Wayne. He had to remind himself of that. This was Wayne. He owed him the respect of trusting him.

Eddie looked at his uncle and he saw surprise, nothing else. There was no disappointment. There was no disgust. There was only surprise. It was mild, curious, the way anybody would look when faced with a piece of unexpected, new information and the normality of it, the not-a-big-dealness took Eddie's breath away, for just a moment.

“And this guy,” Wayne said, “He giving you trouble?”

Eddie swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. We worked it out when he came by.”

And he hadn't told anyone the details before, not Jeff and not Steve either, because it was none of their business, and technically it was none of Wayne's business either, but Eddie wanted to make it his business. He wanted to talk about it. Just once.

“His name's Kevin,” he found himself saying, “We – uh – we had, like, a thing. Last year. It wasn't anything serious and we broke it off before, you know. Christmas. But – I guess I got attached? Wanted things that weren't on the table? So I wrote it down. And – I don't don't really remember what I said, but it was very obvious what was going on between us – and Kevin's parents almost read it. He freaked out. That's why he was here. But we we're good now.”

Wayne nodded, some of the tension he'd held in his shoulders evaporating. “And the others?” he asked, then. “You said guys. Plural. 'suming there's more 'an one.”

He didn't even phrase it as a question, just a fact, that there were several guys who'd received a love letter from Eddie, perfectly casual. It made Eddie blush, because they'd never talked about anything like this before. Crushes. Love. Relationships. And it was new in a way Eddie wasn't quite sure how to navigate yet.

Still, he nodded. “They – uh – they've all been really good about it, actually.”

“Good. That's good. You let me know if that ever changes.”

At that, Eddie did close his eyes, because he knew what came next. “I will,” he promised nonetheless.

“Eddie.” Wayne said his name carefully, and Eddie braced himself. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“About what? The letters? Or being gay?” He was proud of himself for not stumbling over the word. Because it was one thing to live in the nebulous ambiguity of being into guys and another thing all together to label it with the hard truth of being gay.

Or maybe that was just Eddie.

Wayne didn't even blink at the confirmation. “Any of it.”

Letting out a heavy breath, Eddie shrugged, helpless. “I dunno, man, I guess I was – embarrassed? Scared?”

Something heavy and complicated passed over Wayne's face at that, a little pained, perhaps. Sorrowful. “That's on me.”

“No -”

“Yes,” Wayne insisted. “Eddie, you're my son in all the ways that matters and it's my job to make sure you can come to me with anything. I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't.”

“You didn't, though,” Eddie argued weakly, because it was true. Because Wayne hadn't. “I just – I think I just got in my head about it.”

For a moment, Wayne remained quiet, simply looking at Eddie with imploring eyes, like he was watching for Eddie's tells. And Eddie kind of loved that Wayne knew him like that, that he'd be able to spot a lie, that he just wanted Eddie to be safe and happy.

Finally, he gave a satisfied nod. “Alright,” he said. Then, he opened his arms. “Now come here, son. Give your old man a hug.”

It was awkward, with the both of the sitting down, the edge of the coffee table getting in the way. The angle was all wrong. And yet it was perhaps one of the best hugs Eddie had ever received and he melted into it, hiding his face in Wayne's neck like he was still that little kid abandoned by his mother.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled.

Wayne's hand gently rubbed over his back. “Not me you oughta be apologisin' to.”

Eddie pulled back, his eyes drawn to Max who was still standing in the exact same spot. She gave him a lopsided grin and an overly sarcastic wave when their eyes met.

“Hi,” she said, “Wasn't sure if you remembered I'm still here.”

“I'm sorry, Max. For scaring you.”

“You didn't scare me,” Max protested immediately and Eddie levelled her with a doubtful look. “Much,” she amended. “I'm fine. Congrats on being gay, or whatever.”

Eddie let out a snort. “Thanks. Or whatever.”

Wayne clapped him on the shoulder, letting his hand rest there, a steady weight that grounded Eddie. “You should also talk to Billy. Without pickin' a fight this time 'round.”

Eddie grimaced. “I'll do my best.”

“I told him to take a hike. Cool down a little,” Wayne said. “I know y'all don't like each other much, but yer family now, so you should figure it out.”

Eddie sighed, nodded. “I know. I – I'll talk to him. I don’t think he did anything, to be honest. He – he had no idea what I was talking about back there.”

“Talk to him,” Wayne repeated with an encouraging nod. “That's all I'm askin'.”

Despite the less than ideal circumstances, Eddie felt like he could breathe a little easier now. Wayne knew. Wayne knew and nothing had changed, really. They were still a family. Because he'd never liked keeping secrets from his uncle, had always thought of it like betrayal of trust, of sorts, and now that he didn't have to anymore, it some of the weight away.

And he would talk to Billy. To apologise, for sure, but also to perhaps clear the air once and for all. Because Wayne was right. They were a family now. They should figure it out.

But for now, Wayne made all of them a belated breakfast and then pulled Eddie in for one final hug, muttering a faint I love you, son, into his ear, before retiring to bed for the day.

Eddie followed his example, though not to sleep. Instead, he laid awake, music turned down low even though he knew Wayne couldn't hear shit through his earplugs, and he thought.

He thought about how lucky he truly was, to have a family like this - an uncle who never gave up, who had his back through all the good and all the bad and everything in-between, who'd taken him in our of obligation and then kept him around our of love. It was a rare thing, be knew, a family like this.

And he thought about his friends, the way they, too, stuck by his side now that everything was out in the open, the way it may have even brought them closer together. Eddie may have brought them under his wing, but now it was them who protected him.

Mostly, though, he thought about Steve.

He'd been wrong in the letter, he knew. Liking Steve was not a low, it was the highest high he was ever going to achieve, the scorching sun to his Icarus, and Eddie was helpless but to keep flying towards him, knowing it might be his demise but not caring either way because it would be worth it.

And he thought of last night, how close they'd been. It was hard not to get caught up on the what ifs and maybes and could have beens, no matter how many times Eddie firmly told himself that nothing had happened and nothing would have happened, because Steve wasn't like that.

Because what if.

Because maybe.

Because it could have been.

And in those daydreams they closed the gap, Steve's lips firm and plush against his, tasting of beer and cigarettes, the larvae in Eddie's stomach, long since cocooned, blooming into a swarm of fluttering wings.

It was hard not to imagine it.

And he thought of what Steve had said when they'd first talked about the letter – I don't mind. It’s. Nice. He hated how those words gave him hope.

Not for the first time, a part of him wished Steve could have had a different reaction, and that wasn't fair, he knew, because he liked being Steve's friend.

But this was more than friendship, and that wasn't fair either. Not on either of them.

In was there, lying on his bed and getting lost in his thoughts, that Eddie finally made the decision – he needed to talk to Steve. He needed a clear rejection.

It was late when Billy's car pulled into the trailer park again. Eddie listened to the engine cutting off, the door opening and slamming shit, heavy boots stomping over the dirt and gravel, the creak of the other trailer door.

He sighed and told himself that there was no time like the present.

As a peace offering, he brought a six-pack of beer and knocked on Billy's door. From farther inside, he could hear faint music playing from Max's room.

Billy scowled when he opened the door to Eddie's face. “You come back for round two?” he grunted, leaving the door wide open as he stalked back inside, which Eddie took as his invitation to follow.

“Here to bury the hatchet, actually,” he announced, holding up the beer.

Billy scoffed, falling down onto the couch.

There was a moment of tense silence, Eddie and Billy simply staring at each other, before Eddie sighed and took a seat in the armchair, putting the six-pack down on the table between them.

“Look, man,” he started, “I'm sorry, alright? I – I lost my shit this morning.”

Another scoff. “They keep saying you're crazy,” said Billy. “Didn't really believe them until now.”

Eddie grimaced. “That's fair. But – uh – I really am sorry.”

“And I really don't care,” Billy drawled. Languidly, he reached for the beer, legs spread wide as he opened one of the cans with a loud hiss.

Eddie balked. “What is your problem?”

“My problem?”

“Yeah. What is your problem, man? Because I get that you kinda hate me, but I don't get why. What did I do?”

“You ruined my fucking life,” Billy hissed, spittle and beer spraying everywhere. There was real hatred in his eyes, and the heat of it made Eddie want to put some additional distance between them.

“What?”

“You and that fucking bitch Maxine -”

“Leave Max out of this,” Eddie tried to protest, except Billy didn't even seem to hear him, too caught up in his own anger.

“We were a family, you know? We were fucking happy, before -” Billy cut himself off, his face twisting into something dark and painted, and that's when it dawned on Eddie. The why of it all.

He reached for a beer of his own. “Before what?” he asked, not waiting for an answer, “Before my dad fucked your mum while she was still married to your dad?”

“Don't talk about her like that!”

“Why not?” Eddie challenged. “Is that not what happened?”

“My mum is a good person!”

“Right. Is that why she abandoned you?”

Eddie knew he was being mean, was the thing, knew he was poking at spots that were already sore, already raw, knew he was all but begging Billy to make good on his threat to Wayne about snapping his neck. But somehow he didn't think that was truly gonna happen.

Case in point, instead of throwing fists, Billy merely glared at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“What happened, huh?” Eddie doubled down. “Did your dad catch them? Did he do the maths and figure out Max couldn't possibly be his? Did he even say goodbye to you?”

The thin tin of the can in Billy's hand creaked at the force of Billy's hold. “You don't know what you're talking about,” he gritted out through his teeth, the low, warning rumbles of a cornered animal.

“I know,” Eddie countered anyway, “What it's like to have both of your parents fucking abandon you. I get it, right? The knowledge that you just weren't good enough to make them stay? That hurts. That hurts like a son of a bitch. But the thing is, Billy boy, you're not angry with me. And you're definitely not angry with your sister. No, you're angry with your parents, and probably Al, 'cause he fucked you over, right? It's what he does. D'you know I went to juvie for him for six months? Never even got a thank you card for it. So. Yeah. I get it. I know you're pissed. But don't take it out on us, 'cause we didn't do shit.”

Billy kept squeezing his beer can, kept glaring at Eddie, but Eddie could see behind the hatred now. There was pain there. And he felt for him, he did. Because he got it.

“If it wasn't for Maxine -” Billy began to say, but Eddie cut in.

“If it wasn't for Max, they would have probably found another reason to split sooner or later,” he said, not unkind, but Billy flinched anyway. But Eddie wasn't done yet. “Speaking of Max,” he said, casting a glance at his little sister's closed bedroom door. The music was still playing in her room, not loud enough to really cover their voices of Max wanted to eavesdrop, but he continued anyway, “If you really hate her as much as you always claim you do, why did you bring her here? You're an adult. You have a car. You could have gone anywhere. Go out and find your dad. Hell, you coulda tried and followed Al and your mum to Mexico. You could have abandoned Max the same way your parents abandoned you. But you didn't. You packed your shit and you brought here. Why?”

Billy didn't answer, shaking his head.

“You wanna know I think?” The withering look Billy gave him told, him very clearly that, no, Billy did not want to know, but Eddie was going to tell him anyway, “I think that under all that muscle you like throwing around, there's a heart in there somewhere. I think, that you're just a kid who wants a family like the rest of us poor bastards. And the thing is, Billy, you got one. Max, and Wayne, and me, we're you're family, whether you like it or not.”

Still, Billy remained silent, but it was less stoic, less angry too, perhaps. He sat and drained his beer and opened another one and Eddie pretended not to see the tears glistening in his eyes, not to hear the way his breathing sounded a little wet and choked.

Eddie also finished his beer, considering the remaining cans on the table, but he really didn't feel like having another one. Besides, Billy looked like he might appreciate some time alone.

With a low groan, Eddie pushed himself up, collecting the two empties and throwing them in the bin.

“Dinner in an hour,” he announced, “There'll be a plate there for you. If you want it.”

And then he left, not waiting around for Billy's answer. He'd made his offer, now it was Billy's turn to either take it or leave it.

One hour later, Wayne was awake and the massive pot of pasta was calmly bubbling on the stove next to the shitty sauce they'd had on sale at the shop, Eddie picked out four plates and four forks instead of the usual three, and filled four glasses with water. He cleared the whole coffee table to make some space for it all, because the wobbly dining table would be way to small for everyone. And he knew Wayne was watching him, but he ignored it and Wayne didn't say anything because he didn't have to.

And when the door opened and Max walked in, complaining about just how much she was on the brink of starvation, and Billy followed her, quiet and strangely small, Wayne caught Eddie's eyes, and he gave a minute nod.

It was a thank you.

It was a well done.

It was an I'm proud of you and I love you and I always will.

And Eddie nodded back.

He and Billy would probably never be close, Eddie thought, but that was okay. They were trying. After the shared dinner – mostly silent safe for the TV and the scraping of forks against the plates – Billy surprised them all by showing up for a shared breakfast the next morning and even going as far as offering to drive Max to school. Max declined, but it felt like a start, maybe.

It was enough of a distraction that Eddie almost forgot about the conversation he had to have with Steve. But only almost.

His resolution came back full force when Eddie killed the engine in the school parking lot and his eyes fell on Steve and Robin, leaning side by side against the trunk of Steve's car, talking to Chrissy. He was smiling.

Robin had her arm slung around Steve's shoulders the way Steve had done so many countless times with the girls he'd flirted with, and like that they could almost look like a couple, Eddie thought. It twisted something inside of him, like envy, like jealousy, because he wanted to be in Robin's place, he wanted to be the one with his arm around Steve's shoulders. He knew that was ridiculous. Robin and Steve weren't like that.

But neither were Eddie and Steve.

He approached the three of them slowly, making sure his face stayed perfectly pleasant. It was hard, though, because Steve beamed brighter than the sun when he spotted Eddie.

“Hey!”

Eddie smiled back, couldn't help himself. The butterflies in his stomach made him feel a little faint and almost nauseous.

Chrissy turned to look at him as well. There was an ease about her now that hadn't been there before, like she was more comfortable in her own skin.

“Hey,” Eddie, she greeted him.

“Hey, yourself,” said Eddie, stepping up behind Chrissy and putting his hands on her shoulder. She leaned into the touch, her back pressed against Eddie's chest. “You okay?” he whispered, low enough that, perhaps, Steve and Robin wouldn't hear.

“I'm okay,” she answered. “I was just telling Steve and Robin about Jason.”

All four of them turned their heads to where the basketball team was gathered by the front doors. Carver was with them, glaring daggers their way.

“I'm glad you broke it off,” Steve said. “You deserve better than him.”

Standing behind Chrissy, the way he was, he couldn't see her face, but he liked to think he knew her well enough by now to guess that she was wearing that little, tight smile she always wore when she wasn't sure how to react.

“I'm just glad you're okay,” Robin chipped in, a little awkward, the words bleeding into each other with how fast she was trying to get them out.

“Me too,” Chrissy all but whispered. “I still can't believe it's real. It feels like a dream.”

“It's real,” Eddie assured her, squeezing her shoulders a little bit and pressing a kiss to the crown of Chrissy's head.

They talked some more, no more mention of Chrissy or Carver, and Eddie found himself mostly staring at Steve. He looked so comfortable in Robin's arm, perfectly at ease, and so different from the Steve Eddie had watched at the beginning of term. Like he had settled into himself. Like he was happy.

It made him second-guess his decision to say something, honestly, because how could he take that away from Steve?

Except he knew he had to. For both their sakes.

“Steve,” he said, accidentally cutting into a rather passionate rant from Robin about brain-eating amoeba.

That's when the bell rang.

Robin groaned, throwing her head back in anguish. “Guess we better head inside,” she lamented, pulling her arm away from Steve's shoulders and pushing off the car.

They walked towards the school together, ignoring the way the basketball team stared at them. At Chrissy. And for a moment, it seemed like Steve hadn't even heard Eddie say his name.

Then, he asked, “What were you gonna say?”

Eddie slowed his steps, Steve following suit, they were looking at each other, students pushing past them on all sides, trying to get to their first periods, but Eddie didn't care.

He wanted to say, I'm in love you.

He wanted to say, I don't know if I can be your friend.

He wanted to say, I'm sorry.

“I forgot.”

And the thing was, Steve was acting weird.

After Eddie had tried and failed to say something, the smile Steve had given him had never truly reached his eyes, his lips pulled tight and thin. They hadn't spoken again on their way to the classroom.

After first period, Steve disappeared.

During lunch, Steve sat at the other end of the table, barely saying a single word to Eddie, and yet Eddie could feel his eyes on him whenever he thought Eddie wasn't paying attention.

And Eddie tried again and again to talk to him, to say something. Anything. But it was like the universe at large had conspired against him – the second time he tried, in that tiny little five minute break between periods which, granted, probably wasn't the best of times because they were surrounded by people and because Eddie still hadn't fully figured out what he was going to say, the words all jumbled up in his mind, an unholy mess of I think and I want and I can't, Steve gave him another one of those tight-lipped wrong smiles and said he needed to get to his next class, the third time tried was on their way to lunch and he'd gotten as far as can we talk before Jeff was right there with a hand on Eddie's shoulder and then Steve sat at the other end of the table like he was trying to put some distance between them, the fourth time was aborted before Eddie could even open his mouth, because Carver and his cronies rounded the corner, looking like they were out for a fight.

Things only went downhill after that.

Their last class of the day was gym. Under normal circumstances, Eddie would have skipped it without even thinking twice about it, except he was trying to graduate and he was trying to talk to Steve and, perhaps, he was also trying not let something like a dislike of sports to rule and ruin hos life. Running a few laps, wouldn't kill him.

That's how he ended up here. In the changing rooms. He was lagging behind just a little, just to be safe, pointedly not looking anywhere but the wall straight ahead of him, and when he walked into the gym, both Steve and the coach looked at him like they didn't recognise him. Eddie tried to remember if he'd gone to gym class even once this term, but came up empty.

Running a few laps didn't kill him, neither did dodgeball. He was quite good at it, actually, as long as he was the one dodging.

In the end, it was Hagan who got him, slamming the ball straight into his face, only narrowly missing his nose. It earned him a sharp hiss from coach’s whistle because they weren't supposed to aim at heads, but Hagan merely shrugged and muttered something about his hand slipping. Once coach had his back turned, he smirked at Eddie.

That's when it really went to shit.

Because Hagan was smirking at Eddie and Steve was right there and he saw it too.

It happened fast – there was a low exchange of words that Eddie couldn't quite hear, only fragments of it coming through, problem and jerk and boyfriend, then the shoving began, back and forth and back and forth, their voices rising.

“I'm sick of your bullshit, man!”

“My bullshit? That's rich coming from you, Harrington. You ditched us to hang out with the geeks and freaks.”

“I ditched you to make some actual friends!”

And coach was still not looking, or maybe he was choosing not to look, but everyone else was, now. Eddie was.

“Is that what he is? Your friend? You know he's, like, in love with you, right? I saw the fucking letter and I know you did too.”

And it clicked for Eddie at the exact same time as it must have clicked for Steve. That it had been Hagan who'd broken into Eddie's room, Hagan who'd found and taken the shoebox, Hagan who'd handed out the letters.

It was Steve who threw the first punch, in the end.

It was late when Steve got out of the principle's office. Most people had already left, and the janitor had shuffled by three times, glaring at Eddie.

Eddie was still there.

Eddie didn't need to be there.

For once, no one had even tried to blame Eddie for the fight that had broken out in his vicinity, since he didn't have a scratch on him, unlike Steve and Hagan.

Coach had pulled them apart after a few too long moments of hesitation, and there'd been some blood, Eddie had seen. Blood and spit and tears.

And now Eddie was here, sitting outside the principal's office, waiting for Steve.

When the door opened, and Steve finally walked outside, his face slackened in surprise. It was a little banged up; dried blood clinging to his nose and his upper lip, his hair a mess. He was still in his gym clothes.

“You're still here,” he breathed out.

Hagan was also there, stopping dead in his tracks, the proverbial storm clouds brewing over his head breaking and pouring down on him.

He scoffed. “Give me a break,” he muttered to himself, and then walked off without another word or a look back.

Eddie shrugged. “Got your stuff,” he explained, gesturing at the bags by his feet. “So. What's the verdict?”

Steve bit down on his lip, his cheeks a little rosy. “Uh. Week's detention.”

Eddie blinked. “Detention,” he echoed flatly. “You beat the shit out of each other. In class. And you're not even getting suspended?”

Face fully red now, Steve looked away in shame. Eddie didn't like it. He didn't want Steve to be ashamed.

“Unbelievable,” he intoned, very much over the top, his lips twitching in a smile, trying to tell Steve, without telling him, that he didn’t blame him. It wasn't Steve's fault that Higgins clearly played favourites.

And Steve seemed to get the message, eyes flickering up to Eddie, his own smile breaking out.

And for a moment, they simply stayed like that, standing outside the principal's office, grinning at each other like idiots. And there was that look again, in Steve's eyes, the one he'd had on Halloween, like Eddie was the best thing he'd ever seen, and it tore Eddie apart because he knew he wasn't.

“Steve -” he tried yet again.

And yet again the universe had other ideas.

The office door opened, principal Higgins stepping out, pausing when he spotted them. His face fell.

“Munson, please tell me you're not -”

“He's here for me,” Steve quickly cut in.

Higgins nodded. “Well, he can be here for you outside,” he told them sternly. “Go on now, off you go.” He made a shooing motion with his hands.

Eddie and Steve didn't have to be told twice, giggling to themselves as they went out.

The parking lot was almost empty, the street lights already on, casting strange shadows on the concrete.

They walked in silence. Then, Eddie couldn't take it anymore -

“Can we talk?” he pressed out, half expecting the ground underneath to open up or the sky above their heads to fall down, but nothing happened. He'd said the words now. There was no going back.

They were going to talk.

Steve looked caught, his eyes a little wide, his skin a little pale, but he nodded. “Yeah. Yes. Sure. We – yes. We can. Talk.”

He looked fucking terrified at the prospect, honestly, and Eddie wanted to reassure him, wanted to say it's nothing bad, but he couldn’t, because he didn't know.

Steve took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “D'you wanna follow me? My parents are out.”

Mutely, Eddie nodded.

He walked over to his van. There was a piece of paper stuck under his wiper blade.

You're late, it read, Billy drove me home.

“Damnit.”

He'd forgotten about Max. How could he have forgotten about Max?

Swearing to himself and trying not to drown in the guilt, he followed Steve to his house. It stood tall and empty and dark in the cold winter air.

Eddie wondered if Steve ever got lonely here.

“So,” Steve prompted once they were both inside and the heating was on, slowly thawing the air between them. There was a tension there, like Steve was bracing himself for another first to the face.

“So,” Eddie echoed. Then, he held up his hand. “Sorry, I know I said I wanted to talk but can I just use your phone real quick? I need to call home, make sure Max got back alright.”

Steve blinked, his brain very clearly tripping over the deviation from whatever he'd been preparing himself for.

“Uh. Sure. Yeah. Go ahead.”

Max was alright, if a little miffed that Eddie had stood her up.

“You're the one who gave me that whole speech about how important it is I let you know if I'm staying out after school,” she said accusingly.

“I – I did say that. Yeah,” Eddie admitted, feeling less and less guilty by the second, because clearly Max was more than alright.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

The nerve on that kid, honestly.

Eddie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I'm sorry, alright? I was with a friend. D'you get home alright?”

Over the line, he could hear Max letting out a snort. “No,” she drawled, voice dripping in sarcasm, “My corpse is currently rotting on the side of the road, your speaking to my ghost.”

“Alright, smartass. Just making sure you're okay.”

“I'm okay,” Eddie, Max said, softer now, less acidic.

“Okay. Can you let Wayne know I'll be back late, maybe?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Eddie hung up, wishing he didn't have to, because now that he was here, now that Steve was waiting for him in the other room to give him some privacy, now that they were about to have this conversation, he didn't know where to start. Again.

But he hung up.

He found Steve in the kitchen, leaning against the island with a class of coke in hand, the bottle on the island, another, empty glass, sitting next to it.

“Hey, do you want a drink?”

Eddie shook his head. His mouth felt much too dry, but the thought of having to keep something down was worse. He wanted to throw up.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he opened, standing in the middle of the kitchen, not knowing what to do with his hands.

Steve hummed, taking a deep gulp from his drink. “You said,” he mumbled before setting the glass down on the counter.

“I did,” Eddie confirmed, bringing his hands together to fiddle with his rings. He could see Steve following the movement with his eyes, and where usually Eddie would have felt comforted by Steve's attention, now it only lodged the words deeper in his throat, choking him.

“I -”

“It was Tommy,” Steve suddenly blurted out, too loud and too hasty. It made Eddie freeze on the spot. “The letters. It was Tommy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie heard himself say. “Yeah, I figured based on, you know, your fight and all.”

Steve nodded, looking almost eager, almost pleased. “He said something about a watch? I – I'm not sure, but he thought you stole it from him?”

“That was Billy,” Eddie said quietly. He would laugh about this later, the fact that Billy stealing a watch would lead to all this. He would laugh so he wouldn't cry.

Steve looked surprised at this new piece of information, but carried on anyway, “And I guess he was looking for it in your room? But he found the letters instead? And, well -”

“And he kind of hates me?” Eddie supplied, shrugging to himself, “Look, I don't really care about what Hagan did or didn't do. It's happened. I'm over it. And, you know, it could've been worse. In fact. In fact, maybe, I should thank him, actually, cause this whole thing gave me an opportunity to come out, and I got a couple new friends out of it, so.” He shrugged again, trying to get back to them, to it, the thing he really wanted to talk about. “And, listen, Steve, the thing I wanted to -” that's as far as he got.

He hadn't even registered Steve moving, but he must have, because Steve was right there, right on front of him, and there were two hands cradling his face, and lips pressing against his and -

And Steve was kissing him.

Steve was -

It was barely anything, uncoordinated and unexpected and Eddie was frozen, couldn't move, wasn't sure what was happening, but before he could even figure it out, Steve pulled back, sudden and violent, his eyes wide, his mouth parted in shock. There was fear there, on his face.

“I – shit. Fuck. I – Eddie, I'm sorry.”

“What,” Eddie croaked out, one hand moving all on its own account to come up and touch his lips. He could still feel the pressure of Steve on them, a phantom kiss sending aftershocks through his body.

“I don't know why I did that,” Steve said. He was shaking, Eddie realised, his hands trembling by his side.

“I think you do.”

Because people didn't just go around kissing each other for not reason. Steve knew. Even if he didn't know he knew.

And Steve was shaking his head now, his breathing a little too fast, a little too shallow, and then he was talking, the words rapidly spilling out all at once, “I – Eddie I'm sorry, I – I shouldn't have – and I know you said – but I've been so fucking confused! And I couldn't figure out – because I don't mind, because I do like it, and I didn't know what – and then Halloween, I felt like -”

And it was the obvious distress that kicked Eddie into motion, in the end, that made him step forward and reach out, placing his hands on Steve's arms. “Steve, slow down. Breathe. Just breathe.”

And Steve did. He breathed. Big gulping gasps of air, shaky but steadily getting calmer. Less panicked.

“That's it, Stevie, just breathe. Let's go to the living room. I don't really wanna have this conversation standing up and your kitchen chairs suck, no offence.”

“My mum bought them,” Steve muttered, as he allowed Eddie to lead him away. The words sounded faint. Automatic. Eddie could imagine Steve saying the a lot, probably about most things in this house.

Unlike the kitchen chairs, Steve's sofa was actually quite comfortable and Eddie stayed close when they both sat down.

“I'm sorry,” Steve said again, eyes down-cast and hands fidgeting in his lap.

“Stop apologising,” said Eddie gently.

Steve glanced up at him, the smallest hint of a smile crinkling his eyes. “I kinda wanna do it again,” now, he confessed, and Eddie let out a snort.

“Well, don't. Just. Talk to me. Without panicking, this time.”

“I wasn't panicking.”

“You were a little panicking.”

Steve sighed. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands rubbing over his face, and Eddie gave him a moment to collect himself. Then, Steve pushed up again and turned so he was properly facing Eddie. He looked determined, face set, shoulders squared.

“I like you,” he announced, and it was only the slightest hitch in his voice that betrayed the nerves he had to be feeling. “I like you, and it confuses the shit out of me, because I don't know – I don't know what to do with it. I don't know what it means.” For me.

I don't know what it means for me, Eddie heard.

“You don't have to know.”

“But you said -”

“I said don't say things that mean something different for me than they mean for you. Don't give me the wrong idea. Because I thought we could never be anything but friends. But – but if we could – If you like me, you know, like that -”

“I do,” Steve said quickly. He sounded so certain, it made Eddie's head spin a little. “I do like you like that. It just – It just took me a while to figure out, I guess, and I don't know – I don't know what that makes me.”

“It doesn't have to make you anything,” Eddie said gently. He wanted to reach out again, wanted to touch, but wasn't sure if that would be welcome, not right now, now when Steve was already falling apart at the seams. “It's – sweetheart it's okay to be confused.”

Steve's whole face flushed red at the petname and he quickly tried to hide it behind his hands. “But you -” His voice came out muffled, barely even audible.

Eddie shook his head, remembered a second too late that Steve wouldn't be able to see him, and finally did reach out, carefully taking Steve's hands into his, pulling them down, stroking his thumb over the smooth skin. And Steve let him.

“Forget about me for a second,” he told Steve. “This isn't about me.” Steve gave him a look at those words, questioning, and Eddie explained, “Look, I'm gay, it's a pretty integral part of who I am as a person. I made it that way. That wasn't – that was a choice that I made. And I had a lot of time to make that choice, to make myself into this. It doesn't have to be like that for you. You can do whatever the hell you want. There's no rules, Stevie. And if you don't have a name for what you're feeling right now, if you never have a name for it, that's okay.”

Steve was silent for a moment, his head tilted down, eyes focused on their joined hands. Then, he looked up.

“I have a name for some of it,” he whispered. “I do like you, Eddie. You – fuck – you're so confident and loud and unashamed and unafraid and – and you're kind of really hot.”

“Only kind of?” Eddie asked, quirking an eyebrow at him, his lips curled into a sly smile. “Way to stroke my ego, princess.”

Steve rolled his eyes at him, smiling just the same. “You're also kind of annoying.”

“I should hope so. It's one of my many charms.”

Another eyeroll.

It felt easier now, being here. Like this. Like some of the pressure had been let out, the tension loosening, and Eddie could breathe freely again.

They'd be okay.

No matter what came after this, they'd be okay.

“I promise I'm not messing with you or anything,” Steve said suddenly.

“I didn't think you were. You're not that kind of person. And I meant what I said, Stevie – there's no rules, you don't have to figure it all out in one day. There's plenty of time. And – and if you say you like me, that's enough.”

You're enough, he didn't say, because that felt like too much too soon. Because this was fragile.

He thought Steve took his meaning anyway, because his smile was blinding.

“Can I try that kiss again?”

Eddie didn't bother answering with words, instead pulling Steve close by his hands, placing them on his shoulder, his own fingers tracing along the hem of Steve's shirt until he could press his palms around Steve's hip, beckoning him forward.

And Steve went easily, still smiling, slowly and carefully inching closer on his knees until he swung one leg over Eddie's, straddling him.

There tension was back now, but it was different. Delicious anticipation as they took a moment to just breathe in the closeness.

He wasn't sure who closed the gap, in the end. It might have been both of them.

And it wasn't fireworks, but a warm hearth crackling inside of him, chasing away even the last remnants of cold.

Steve tasted sweet like the coke he'd been drinking early, his lips tacky from the sugar. Eddie thought he never wanted to taste anything else ever again.

And it was a sweet kiss, really. Eddie, outside of Kevin, didn't have much experience when it came to kissing. The handful of times he'd taken a trip to the city to find someone to take the edge off, had been hurried, no names, no fuss, nothing like this. Because this was more than a simple means to end, it was a promise of a future.

When they parted, they were both smiling and the butterflies in Eddie's belly were soaring.

They did talk some more, after that – about how Steve realised he wanted to kiss Eddie on the Halloween, how he thought he maybe would have done it too had Max not called, how he'd woken up the next morning infinitely more sober and afraid he'd ruined it all, how he'd known what Eddie had wanted to talk about all day and tried to avoid it out of fear.

“I didn't know what to say.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

Not that it really mattered now, anyway, because they'd got there, in the end. They got here – sitting on Steve's couch, hearts beating in sync, lips red and swollen, together.

Chapter Text

Eddie,

I got it into my head that this would be a cute thing to do. That was before I remembered that I'm no good with words. Not as good as you, anyway. Robin says it's the thought that counts, so let's hope that's true. If you don't like it, though, please pretend like you never got this letter. Maybe a rat got onto your locker and ate it.

I'll see you tomorrow, anyway. Are you sure it's still cool with your uncle that I'm crashing your holidays? I know he means a lot to you, I really want him to like me, make a good first impression, you know?

Sorry, I should have planned this better. But I knew I would just overthink it if I started writing draft first.

There are things I haven't told you, things I want to tell you but I don't know how.

Things like you make me feel safe. I can be myself with you and not be afraid.

Things like you make me feel seen. Even when we didn't know each other, you knew I was lonely. I need you to know that I'm not lonely anymore.

Things like you give me courage and hope and strength.

Things like I think I'm in love with you.

Maybe that's too soon. It hasn't been that long yet and I feel crazy for just thinking it, but I know it's true. And I think you should know.

You should know how much you mean to me, how important you are, how I can't imagine a future without you anymore.

Is that weird?

I think maybe it is but I also think you won't mind, because you like weird.

I think maybe you feel the same. You haven't said it yet, but I can see it sometimes in the way you smile at me, the way you say my name, the way your hands are always gentle when they touch me. You make me feel precious.

And I love you for that.

I love you for the way you're patient, the way you keep me grounded, the way you watch baseball and basketball and football games with me even when you don't understand what's going on. I love you for the way you care about you're friends and your family, the way you make me feel like I'm part of that. I love you for the way you're kind even when you have every reason not to be.

I love you and I just wanted you to know that but I'm not sure if I can say it out loud yet.

Yours,

Steve

Eddie couldn't stop smiling.

It was a good thing that he hadn't seen the note until after last period because he didn't think sitting in class, grinning like an idiot the whole way through, would have gone over too well. And he'd been on a streak of no detentions recently; he'd hate to break it now.

That didn't mean that no one noticed, of course. Jeff and Grant were with him, shooting him strange looks, but they didn't said anything, and so neither did Eddie. Instead, he neatly folded up Steve's letter and slid it into his pocket.

He couldn't wait to see Steve tomorrow.

He'd been shifty all day, and Eddie had assumed it had something to do with Christmas, but now it all made sense. If Steve had been planning to slip this letter into Eddie's locker, no wonder he'd been acting a little strange. On edge.

And getting Steve to agree to Christmas had been a fight and a half. Eddie had been toying with the idea for a while now, ever since Steve had off-handedly mentioned that his parents probably wouldn't be around for the holidays.

“Happened last year as well,” he'd said, “But I had Nancy and Tommy back then” – which had led into a whole other conversation about Eddie's last Christmas, but he hadn't forgotten. And the thought, the image of Steve all alone in that big house broke his heart.

Hence the offer.

“Spend Christmas with me,” he'd said. Once. Twice. Several times. Because Steve had kept finding reasons for why he couldn't without outright saying no.

I don't wanna impose.

Christmas is family time.

I don't really care for the holidays anyway.

And Eddie had kept asking. Again and again and again.

And not just Steve either. He'd been driving Wayne up the walls with this for weeks now, until it had been Wayne to give his own invitation through Eddie.

“Wayne wants to meet you,” he'd told Steve. “Said if he doesn't, he'll ban your name in the trailer for at least a month.”

That had finally convinced Steve, and a good thing too, because Eddie was certain that Wayne's threat had been genuine and then what would Eddie have done if he couldn't have talked about his Stevie?

Wayne wanted to meet Steve, and the thing was, Eddie wanted to them to meet too, wanted them to get along, because he loved Wayne, but he also loved Steve. Even if he hadn't said it yet. Because this mattered.

And he couldn't stop smiling.

And he couldn't wait for tomorrow.

When tomorrow came, Eddie woke up with the sun, feeling giddier than he'd perhaps ever felt before in his life.

Wayne wasn't home yet.

Eddie threw on a pot of coffee, a blanket hugged tightly around his shoulders to fight off the chill, and waited. He was going to have to do some cleaning before Steve arrived, he thought.

Coffee and cigarette in hand, he moved outside. The temperature difference wasn't much to be honest, what with the thin walls and insulation that only existed in theory, but Eddie didn't mind. The cold air felt nice. And yet, he couldn't relax, couldn't quite go about his usual ritual of sitting outside to have a smoke and drink his coffee and just exist for a few minutes, his mind going over all the things he should be doing instead, a never-ending checklist of change bedding and fold laundry and clean fridge.

He only made it through half the cigarette before he gave up and moved back inside.

He changed the bedding.

He folded the laundry.

He cleaned the fridge.

Then he kept going – there was years worth of dust and dirt under the couch and a handful of coins between the cushions, he scrubbed the oven and the toilet and the shower walls, he fruitlessly tried to air out the trailer to maybe get rid of the permeating smell of cigarettes and weed that had set in years ago, he agonised over a burn mark in the coffee table, briefly considering if he had enough time and money to just throw it out and buy a new one.

That's how Wayne found him, anyway – furiously scrubbing the table and muttering to himself.

His uncle paused in the doorway, frowning. “What's all this then?” he asked, looking around like he was afraid of what he'd see.

Eddie looked around too. The dishes that almost always stacked up in the sink were all gone, as we're the various glasses and cups that had been scattered around every available surface, the bins were empty, the old newspapers and magazines were all in a neat pile underneath the coffee table, the kitchen counter was spotless, and Eddie's fingers were red from scrubbing at that stupid burn mark.

“I tidied up a little.”

Wayne huffed out a chuckle. “I'll say.” Finally, he closed the door, making to take a step forward when Eddie stopped him.

“Shoes off,” he ordered, “I already cleaned the floor. I don't need you dragging dirt all over it again.”

Wayne gave him a strange look, but complied. The big toe on his right foot was poking through a hole in the sock.

“And change your socks before Steve gets here, he doesn't need to see that.”

“Ahh,” said Wayne. Eddie didn't like the sound of it.

“Ahh? What does ahh mean?”

Shrugging off his jacket, Wayne answered, “If all it takes for you to care about a clean house is a boyfriend, you shoulda got one sooner.”

“Shut up,” Eddie responded, a little sharper than he meant to which didn’t help the way Wayne was still looking at him, one eyebrow raised in silent question, his lips pursed. He’d definitely picked up on Eddie’s tone. “Sorry.”

“’s alright,” said Wayne. Eddie watched him pour himself a cup of coffee.

“We need a new coffee table,” Eddie announced, “This one’s got a burn mark on it.” He tried, one last time, to scrub it off, hoping that maybe, miraculously, it would disappear, but nothing changed.

Wayne had his back leaned against the kitchen counter, taking a very slow, very deliberate sip from his coffee and considering Eddie over the rim of the mug.

Then, he asked, “Wha’s this about, son?”

“I just told you, the coffee table -”

“This ain’t about the coffee table, Ed.” Wayne said it factually, calmly, patiently like he had all the time in the world and hadn’t just come off a night shift.

Eddie sighed, pushing himself off the floor, only to fall straight back down onto the couch, head hanging low. He heard Wayne moving around, felt the dip in the couch a moment later when Wayne sat down next to him.

“Steve’s coming over soon,” said Eddie, hoping that would be explanation enough for Wayne.

“I'm aware. You been talking about damn near nothing else for weeks now.”

Eddie nodded his head because, yeah, that sounded about right.

“So?” Wayne prodded gently. “What's got you all stressed out?”

Eddie shrugged, peering up at his uncle. He wondered if Wayne had ever been in this position before, if he'd ever had a girlfriend he'd invited over, maybe they'd even lived together. He only now realised that Wayne had never mentioned anything like that before.

“I just – I just want him to like it.”

“It,” Wayne repeated slowly. “Your home? Or your family?” Because he really was a perceptive bastard when he wanted to be, and he knew Eddie.

“Both, I guess.”

Steve had never been to the trailer before. They'd only ever hung out at Steve's place or the school or somewhere in town. And, sure, Steve knew Billy, kind of, and he'd met Max in passing, but he didn't know them. Not the way Eddie did. Shared dinners and shared history and shared lives.

“And, uh -” Eddie felt guilty for doing it before he'd even moved, but still he reached into his pocket and pulled out Steve's letter, handing it to Wayne. “Steve slipped this into my locker yesterday.”

Wayne hesitated, eyeing the letter. “You want me to read it?” he asked.

Eddie nodded, felt like, if he didn't share this with Wayne now, he might explode, and then all that cleaning would have been for nothing, because there'd be bits of Eddie scattered all over the place.

Wayne handled the letter carefully, knowing, without being told, that it was important. While he read it, his face gave nothing away. Then, he gave it back, eyes once again resting on Eddie's face.

“It's a nice letter.”

“It is.”

“He cares about you a lot.”

“He does.”

“What's got you all stressed out?” Wayne asked again, perfectly open, waiting for Eddie to give him an idea about what exactly was going on.

“I -” Eddie sighed, rubbed his face, “What if it's too much? What if – I invited him to stay with us 'cause I didn't want him to be alone, but – but it's just starting to feel like this is a big deal, you know? And what if – what if it's too much? Too soon? It hasn't been that long, yet. Steve's still trying to figure himself out. And that – that's fine. More than fine! I love that he's discovering this about himself and that – that I get to be part of it. But I just – fuck, man, I don't know. I don't know.”

What if Steve changed his mind?

What if Steve took one look at Eddie and his life like this and decided he didn't want that after all?

What if Steve didn't love him the way he thought he did?

“You love him,” said Wayne. Not a question but a statement. Still Eddie nodded. “He says he loves you too. In the letter. Do you not believe him?”

And that – that hit the nail right on the head, didn't it? Did he not believe Steve?

“I – I believe that he believes it,” was what he eventually settled on.

Wayne sighed. It was a deep and heavy sound. Sad, somehow in a way Eddie didn't fully understand.

“What?”

“Eddie -” Wayne rubbed a hand over his mouth, shaking his head. He was struggling for words, Eddie knew. Didn't stop him, though. “Eddie, I need you to listen to me.” Then, he reached out, both hands on Eddie's shoulders. “I know – I know it ain't easy what with your parents, but you gotta learn how to trust people. You gotta learn how to believe 'em when they tell you how they feel. You – you can't be makin' assumptions like that, 'cause if you do, you'll just be making yourself and everyone around you miserable, you hear me? If Steve says he loves you, that's what you gotta believe. No what ifs. You believe him until he tells you otherwise. You give him all of you, unless he tells you, in words, that that ain't what he wants. Do you understand?”

Eddie opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “But -”

“No,” said Wayne with a decisive shake of his head. “No buts. Do you understand? You're smart kid, Ed, and you got a big heart. You can't go shutting that off. Not even to protect yourself. 'cause if you go into this thinking it won't work out, it probably won't.”

“But what if it doesn't work out?” Eddie asked, hating how small he sounded, like he was that boy again, sitting on Wayne's doorstep, waiting for his mum to come back.

“Then I'll be right here with you to pick up the pieces. But that day might never come. I pray that it doesn't.”

Eddie was nodding his head, he realised. He was nodding his head but he didn't know why, didn't know what he was agreeing with. His eyes burned, his vision blurry. All he could see was Wayne, all he could feel was the steady presence of his uncle, anchoring him.

“Why did they leave me?” he pressed out, his voice breaking around a sob he couldn't quite contain.

And he tried to stop it, he really did, but now the thoughts were right there – his dad coming and going as he pleased, never caring about what he left behind, having a while other family he cared about just as little, his mum making promises she never intended to keep, trying and trying and trying to do her best but ultimately giving up because – because.

Wayne's face shattered at the question, pain and sorrow in his eyes that Eddie had never seen before. Not like this. Because he wasn't trying to hide it now, because he wasn't trying to be strong for Eddie. He was feeling it with him.

“I don't know, son,” he said, and despite it all, Eddie appreciated the honesty. “I don't know why they left you, but I know it wasn't your fault. They didn't leave because of you.”

And Eddie knew that. Or he thought he did. It's what he'd been telling himself over and over all these years. It's what he'd told Max, too.

And yet.

“But they didn't stay because of me either.”

And, again, Wayne was honest when he said, “No. They didn't. But I will. Eddie, I will always be here because of you.”

And Eddie knew that too. It's the only reason he was still alive some days.

“I know it's not the same -”

Eddie shook his head. “It's more,” he said. “It actually means something.”

Because Wayne didn't have to be here. Because Wayne had never had to have been here. Because he'd made a choice, that day when Eddie was 13 and scared and angry and sad and taking it out on himself and everyone around him. Wayne had made a choice, and he'd kept making that choice every day since, over and over and over again. For Eddie. Because of Eddie.

And maybe that's what love was, in the end. A series of choices.

That's when there was a knock on the door.

“Oh shit.” Eddie nearly choked on his own tears, looking at the door in panic, looking at his uncle. “Wayne!” he hissed. “Wayne, he cannot see me like this.”

Because he wasn't sure what he looked like, but his eyes felt wet and puffy and he was pretty sure that there was snot all over his nose.

And Wayne, calm as you please, squeezed Eddie's shoulders. “You go clean up,” he said, “I'll make sure to give your boy a warm welcome.”

Eddie liked to think that it wasn't a choice at all to agree and hurry to the bathroom while Wayne opened the door, but he knew better. It was a choice. A choice he made because he trusted Wayne. Because Wayne loved him.

He did take a moment, though, to simply stand and listen.

“Oh, Mr. Munson, sir.”

“Just Wayne'll do. You must be Steve.”

“That's right, sir.”

“And you can drop the air. We ain't that formal. Come in. Eddie's just getting ready. He got a little caught up, cleaning.”

“Oh – uh – he didn't have to -”

“I know. He does, too. Between you an' me? I think I think he's a little nervous. Don't tell him I said that, though.”

Wayne loved him and Wayne was also a gigantic traitor, Eddie decided. Then, he cleaned his face the best that he could until most of the evidence of his little breakdown had been washed away. He brushed his teeth for good measure.

When he returned to the main room, he found Wayne and Steve sitting on the couch, each holding a cup of coffee, and already deep in conversation about some baseball game, maybe. Unbelievable.

“Hey.”

They stopped talking, Steve looking up and smiling so damn brightly, it literally up the whole room.

“Hey yourself.”

Eddie hesitated, only for a second, before greeting Steve with a chaste kiss. “I'm glad you're here.”

“I'm glad you invited me.”

“Course we did,” Wayne threw in. “You're part of the family now, boy.”

And that was that, it seemed. Steve was part of the family now, like it was easy, and maybe it was.

There would be more, later – breakfast with Wayne and Max and Billy, all of them crammed around the coffee table that was too small for five people, and Max immediately started interrogating Steve about his car because she'd developed an interest in those lately, and Billy barely spoke a word; a day spend lazing around the trailer park and the woods, sneaking kisses and private smiles, talking about everything and nothing and god and the world; dinner with just Wayne because Max was with Lucas and Billy was out.

And again.

And again.

And again.

It was, perhaps, the best Christmas break Eddie had ever had, because it wasn't just him and Wayne anymore, because there were so many people now, because there was Steve.

And then, eventually, also a conversation.

“I read your letter, by the way.”

“You did?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And I love you too.”

Because that was a choice he wanted to make.

Because that was a choice he wanted to keep making.

Because he just needed to trust Steve. And he did.