HARRINGTON.

He'd lost track of how long Harrington had been in the bathroom for. Minutes, hours, days, who the hell knows, with that seemingly infinite hot water tank they have, here. Long enough that the spot on the couch he stole from the other boy when he got up, was definitely not nearly as warm as it was when he took it over. Long enough that he got cold again, and regretted not following the other boy into the bathroom. He should have. After that long walk on the roadside, kicking fallen leaves and sharing their hot chocolate, the cool breeze had seeped under his skin more than he wanted to admit, and the heat of the home just wasn't doing enough for him, yet.

Before he knew it, staring at the offending, garishly bright sweater quickly turned into Billy holding it between his two fists and pulling it overtop of himself. The material was stupidly soft in his hands. Of course it was, the sweater probably cost more than Billy's entire vinyl collection. Despite the fact that Harrington had taken it off before heading off for the shower, it still felt warm to the touch. It smelled like him, too. Yellow was not Billy's colour, but that didn't stop him from listening to that enticing little whisper in the back of his mind to just put it on. There were just some impulses that were too difficult to ignore and this was one of them. He finds himself suddenly grateful for the solitude, when he gets the sweater pulled over his head. He thinks he might've died from embarrassment if anybody else saw. He's got a reputation to uphold after all. Metalhead, bad boy, king of hawkins high, he shouldn't be wearing another boy's sweater. Shouldn't have it bunched up over his wrists, or the fabric hanging off of his nose for him to inhale the scent off of, like taking a hit of a drug... It's a little more close fitting around his chest and shoulders than it was on Harrington, but it's still a surprisingly loose but comfortable fit, even on him. Almost immediately, he feels warmer, but he's not sure if it's the fabric that does it, his flustering over wearing another boy's sweater, or... the fact that it smells like Steve, and that even thinking his name makes his insides warm, too. He doesn't hear the water down the hall stop running, as he lays himself back on the couch to lounge with the scent of autumn and the object of his affection, under his nose.

              He hadn’t expected him to stop by, but then again, when did Billy ever announce he was coming over to hang out. It was in those little surprises that he was reminded of just how much he loved him. Showing up on his doorstep unannounced for a weekend, claiming the place as his own to crash in- and who was he to say no. It was Billy who made the empty walls of his house feel more like a home, just having him dwell within. Never planning out how their days would go, the change of the weather made it harder to spend late nights out when the chill of fall began to sink into their bones. So instead they’d settle for small things, evening walks and hot drinks, doing what they could to fight off the cold that threatened to consume them both.

              A hot shower seemed to be his only means of relief, letting warmth envelop him as he stood beneath the flowing water. How long he was in there he could not say, time seeming to slow as he’d let the water roll down his form. Steam lingered in the air, palm pressed to the mirror as he’d try and paint a clearer view of himself through the fog. A methodical procedure, a routine he’d done for so many years. Towel drying his hair until damp, spraying in product, making sure if anything, his hair would be messy perfection when he finally left the bathroom. Sweatpants were thrown on, and nothing more, knowing where the other half of his clothes still resided. 

              Not exactly where he’d left it- but it wasn’t a sight he’d complain of in the slightest. For there before him sat a sight he’d never thought he’d see. Never coming to realize just how he’d never seen Billy in any sort of light colors- or anything that didn’t show off his chest. Yet there he was, content and curled up on the couch where he’d left him, and from the looks of it- enjoying the sweater he’d happened to steal when he’d least expected it. Not something he’d ever considered, knowing that Billy could hold such sentiment in wearing something of his. Then again, it would explain the occasional missing shirt, never quite putting two and two together until now.

              A smile would then spread across his features, soft and warm as he’d quietly close the space between them. Thankful, for the privacy they were afforded, thankful that he had Billy to himself for the day. Moments like these made it worthwhile, in his mind, brief and fleeting fantasies of one day having a place to call their own, where he might be lucky enough to see Billy like this every day. Safe, happy, living without fear. The thought alone left him sitting beside him on the edge of the couch cushions, a hand carefully moving along his knee, up his thigh, trailing up to pinch the fabric of the oversized sweater between his fingertips, feeling it against his thumb and index finger as he spoke.

☠. eddie munson was an idiot. he had to be , because who the hell else would wait around at skull rock for - what. . . like two hours now? like some lonely, lovesick, pathetic thing? certainly not anyone with a brain. most would have probably taken the hint by now. . . cut their losses & accepted that maybe the summer long fling shared in star court mall's parking lots & backrooms , were just that. moments. . . boredom. . passing time - making the most out of something that wasn't even there to begin with. the metalhead supposed that's what he got for getting his hopes up.

              It had all been one big misunderstanding- at least, that’s what he wished he had told him, the night everything went to hell. To think that even if he wanted to, there was no time, no place, that could even begin to cover everything he’d been through. Maybe it was best, to keep him in the dark, maybe it was best to cut his losses, to keep him safely at arms length- and maybe this made him selfish, to put his own feelings first. For how many nights did he think of the other- count each passing day they spent together. A summer that was meant to be torture- made easier just by having him around. To think he’d begun taking note, each day that he worked and didn’t, and to think he began to care about music he once never thought twice about- all because of Eddie. It was his fault it all went to shit, to think that maybe if he was so blissfully unaware like the rest of Hawkins, maybe he could have made it to their movie date. Instead he was too busy running from Russians, fighting off creatures that most people in Hawkins didn’t even know existed. To think that in a way he saved him, saved so many others that night from what could have become something much worse than the lives that were already taken. Eddie could have just as easily been in that body count- so for that, he was thankful to risk losing him, rather than make him one of the many victims.

              But still the night played over and over in his mind, like a movie on a screen, watching through someone else’s eyes as he suffered from the drugs they injected into him that night. Remembering what a fool he made out of himself, as he stumbled out of that theater and heard Eddie chasing after. The way he demanded answers, and the way he could do nothing but wander off in a drugged up stupor. It was only when he was sober did he understand what he’d done- but after a night of hell- the mall burning to the ground- there truly was no time to make amends so soon.

              It was why he called him, asked him for another chance to set things right. Why he constantly struggled, wondering if cold feet and leaving him hanging was the better of two options in the long run. He didn’t want to hurt him- and he knew getting close would always put him at that risk. But maybe- one day he might believe him, understand the truth, if someone could ever believe such a thing. It was why he had to try and set things right, hoping that maybe, just maybe, things in Hawkins would be normal again. 

              It was the thought that left him hopeful as he stumbled through the brush and fallen leaves that painted the ground. Knowing the path by heart, he hardly had to lift his head as he knew his sense of direction so well. Lover’s Lake- the special spot where all young flings would go to confess their feelings and make out all the same. Getting high with Eddie didn’t sound like such a bad idea, maybe it would help him gain the courage to confess his feelings and spill his guts- or make him sound insane if he accidentally told him about the evil that lay beneath their very feet. Things that most could not comprehend- and would Eddie simply see it as an excuse? Even if he did tell him the truth? It was a risk he wasn’t willing to take. Instead he eventually found his way, pushing aside branches and entering into the clearing, where a very prominent set of rocks jutted up into the trees and below it- that familiar face that set butterflies churning within. All he had to do was set things right- he was here after all- so maybe there was still a chance.

              He didn’t hear him approach, or at least it’s what he assumed, judging by the way he hung his head and the music from his Walkman blared in the silence of the woods. Hands were shoved deep into his pockets, the jingling of keys and the clearing of his throat filling the silence as he tried to find the words to say before he moved in close- a sheepish wave given to make his presence known. “Hey- hey… Sorry I’m late- work and- stuff.” Already internally kicking himself, he knew it sounded like a half baked excuse, lips pressed to a tight line as he scratched at the stubble on his cheek. “I just… figured better late than never- right?” He didn’t deserve him, that much he already knew- for who would be stood up and wait, hours, with just the hope that he might show up. The thought left his heart twisting in his chest, remembering the sight of him as he left him high and dry that night. Sparkling lights and brightly colored carpet as the room spun around them, back to the future still playing through a set of double doors- and his eyes- the saddest thing he’d ever seen. He never wanted to see such sorrow again, not if he could help it. 

❛  are we actually doing the right thing?  ❜ ❛  are you bleeding?  ❜ ❛  are you even sorry?  ❜ ❛  are you still mad at me?  ❜ ❛  are you sure you’re gonna be okay on your own?  ❜ ❛  can’t we just be friends again?  ❜ ❛  can we pretend this never happened?  ❜ ❛  can you help me with this?  ❜ ❛  didn’t you listen to what i just said?  ❜ ❛  did you ever even love me?  ❜ ❛  don’t you believe me?  ❜ ❛  do you trust me?  ❜ ❛  do you understand what that means?  ❜ ❛  do you want to talk about it?  ❜ ❛  haven’t you heard the news?  ❜ ❛  have you ever cared about anyone other than yourself?  ❜ ❛  how did you do that?  ❜ ❛  how will i ever be able to repay you?  ❜ ❛  is it my fault?  ❜ ❛  is there anything i can do for you?  ❜ ❛  was all of this just a lie?  ❜ ❛  we’re gonna survive this, right?  ❜ ❛  what are you doing here?  ❜ ❛  what do you want from me?  ❜ ❛  what have you done to them?  ❜ ❛  what makes you think i’m going to help you?  ❜ ❛  when was the last time you ate something?  ❜ ❛  when will it stop?  ❜ ❛  when will you ever grow up?  ❜ ❛  where were you last night?  ❜ ❛  who did this to you?  ❜ ❛  who the hell are you?  ❜ ❛  why can’t you just let it go?  ❜ ❛  why didn’t you tell me sooner?  ❜ ❛  why did you leave me?  ❜ ❛  why don’t you come home with me?  ❜ ❛  why would you do something like that?  ❜ ❛  will you call me when you got there safely?  ❜ ❛  will you please tell me what happened?  ❜ ❛  will you stop doing that?  ❜

☠. there really was no particular reason why eddie chose to hang out in a lone & small graveyard , but- if there had to be one , he supposed it was because it gave him comfort. it was quiet , calm , hidden away from civilization with little to no one willing to venture all the way back there alone. especially not with the dreaded eyesore of a trailer park so near by. but he didn't mind the whispers between the branches & the headstones , or the crows that came to pay their respects , or even the frogs by the river if they so chose to chime in on his music playing. he would be alone there- for hours & not mind one bit. though he had to admit , some company every now & then wasn't so bad either.

as he looked to steve though he had to admit his curiosity to himself , dark brown hues taking note of his hands & their nervous movements- the shyness in his chuckle & the blush upon his features ; cheekbones & a smile that were crafted with such care. the metalhead would have to pull himself from his own thoughts as the other continued speaking , watching him as he rested himself down on the ground , & eddie would shrug his shoulders.

❛ size of it hardly matters. everyone has their place- you'd have one too. not anywhere you don't wanna be , just right where you fit in. for you that's probably guitar n'vocals , right? ❜ as he said this ringed fingers would be digging into his pocket until eventually he would pull out a cigarette pack & his lighter. it was a smooth & effortless movement as he'd remove one from the pack , plucking it between full lips before flipping the zippo to light the damn thing. he hates them truly- but he won't live without them. also his weed was too far of a walk.

              “Uh, yeah- yeah that’s right.” Not that he wanted to force himself into a role, not by any means, but in truth that was where he felt the best. Not front stage for all the attention, but able to let his emotions out into a mic when the rest of the world would listen. Still, it would be a change, a lot less Steve Harrington and a lot more- well, whatever corroded coffin would be called. Metal, mainly, a whole lot of something he wasn’t. Then again, it was performance art in its own way, and truly as Eddie put it: putting on a mask, showing a part of himself he couldn’t normally be. How hard could that really be?

              Eyes would follow his hands, more so a distraction with how effortlessly they moved. Muscle memory no doubt, fitting the role of the outcast metalhead so well. All tattoos and cigarettes and guitars and cemeteries. He was an artist, and it was clear to see. He didn’t care what others thought, expressing himself in a way he could never see himself doing. Something he was too afraid to do for so long- well- until now. Maybe this would be the start of finding out who he truly was inside.

☠. life had a funny way of throwing out surprises , & steve harrington playing a solo act on stage at the hideout was definitely one of them. the annoyed part of him would ask if there was anything the former prom king couldn't do- but the other part was far too enamored by what he had seen. the way his voice had carried about the bar , the way he played so effortlessly. . . he was playing his music as if it were his very own heart sewn onto his sleeve ; a practice that eddie knew well. though he supposed for people like them- it hardly took any effort at all.

music always came easily to those who felt the way they do , spoke through song as they did , for it was such a rare talent to come by. one so raw that people would hardly notice it at all unless they took a moment to listen. . . instead of listening to that usual pop shit they had on the radio. well eddie had listened that night at the hideout , & he had meant what he said to steve that night too.

so when he would walk up & speak , make himself known , those warm & deep brown hues would flicker up to look up him. the sun was thankfully hidden behind the thick of the willow tree surrounding them , leaving golden streams of light peaking through , a soft breeze cooling the summer air. he'd smile. ❛ well hello to you too , harrington. please- ! make yourself at home in my space of peace & tranquility. ❜

              “Right- hey-” Saying a proper introduction was almost a foolish afterthought, briefly muttering beneath his breath as if to recover. Lips pressed to a tight line, nervously chewing at the inside of his cheek as he wondered if it was too forward, too sudden, as if whenever he had to impress someone he suddenly lost all means of being normal. Eyes flickered up to the willow, watching the way sunlight danced through the long wispy branches as a breeze would come through. It truly was quiet, partially due to his audience, and the other part knowing no one would freely roam a place like this- usually out of fear. Yet here he was, in his element, a bright and charming smile flashed his way that would leave a heat pricking up the back of his neck. 

              “Yeah, I mean- If you want me to. I know you’ve got a pretty decent sized band, from what I saw… but…” Would he really be one to fit in with the rest? Their whole getup, masks, cloaked in all black, the only reason he recognized him was when he was offstage wandering the bar, being offered drinks left and right. Here he was, a solo performance, a song with a completely different change of pace- would he really fit into his band? He had the voice, had the heart, all he needed was a chance. “I was thinking it might be fun. I don’t know if I need to like, develop some cool alter ego type thing or, bring my own mask but…” He’d try anything, just to get a chance really.