The thing about Eddie is, he likes to tease. He says things that Steve does are stupid, he fondly calls him an idiot, he jostles him about “dumbass behavior” or being “pure of heart, dumb of ass”
And like…they’re jokes. Steve knows they’re jokes, it’s not like he’s walking around thinking Eddie is just bullying him mercilessly. It’s not like he thinks that Eddie is just being cruel, because of course he’s not. Eddie doesn’t have a genuinely cruel bone in his body. But like…jokes always have a bit of truth in them, don’t they?
Anyway, it’s not as if the proof isn’t in the pudding. Even before all the head trauma, he wasn’t very good at school. Reading is hard and when he does manage to get through a chapter none of it sticks in his brain. Math makes no sense, the numbers never want to stay where he puts them. He’s never been great at remembering things, and he doesn’t work through things very quickly. It takes time, and people don’t want to wait for him to get there.
He barely passed high school, and only because Nancy helped him, so he didn’t get into any colleges. And sure, Eddie failed twice too, but he’s good at making connections. He’s good at reading and metaphors and shit. No one ever rolls their eyes at Eddie’s ideas. So he knows the reasons that Eddie was bad at school are very different from the reasons Steve was bad at it.
So like, he knows he’s stupid.
Even the eleven year old in the group is smarter than him, he gets that. But it doesn’t mean it’s not humiliating when people point it out. And it’s not like he can fight back about it because they’re not wrong. So he just falls back on sarcasm and tries not to be too mean when they get to him. Because his first instinct is always cruelty, even now. He’s better at biting it back, but it’s what he does. The only thing he’s ever actually excelled at.
And like… he knows he’s lucky? He knows that it’s a miracle that the kids put up with him, and that Robin for some reason finds kinship with him, and that Eddie looks at him so soft and sweet with words of love on his lips. He knows they all care about him.
But sometimes it really hurts to know how much they don’t respect him. And like he doesn’t need to be smart, he just needs to be able to take a hit and get back up again to take the next one. But sometimes he wishes he could be. Daydreams about reading one of Eddie’s books and surprising him with how much he knows about it. Telling Robin he did manage to get into the same college she’s going to, actually, and they can get an apartment together off campus. Of telling his dad that he doesn’t need his money, because he got a scholarship and he’ll get a good job and take care of himself.
But that’s all they are, is dreams. Because all his brains have been compressed under his hair, or because he’s too pretty to be smart, or because he needs to be told everything.
So when Eddie grabs him around the neck and gives him a noogie and calls him a dumbass and kisses his head, he takes it as the affection he knows it’s supposed to be. And then he just doesn’t think about it until he’s all alone at night and he can’t help but remember. And the tears that come from it are stupid too. Stupid and pointless, but at least they’re silent. And no one has to know.
They celebrate their one year anniversary with a little picnic on the shore of Lovers’ Lake, shaded from the sun and onlookers by the tree line. It’s not the usual stuff Steve does to impress someone, since they can’t exactly go to a nice restaurant or anything, but he does his best to make it nice.
He reads a bunch of mom magazines to get recipes for food and he gets Eddie a chunky silver bracelet with their initials etched into the underside of a plain plate. Eddie shyly plays him a song on his acoustic and it’s really sweet and it makes Steve cry a little bit because he’s never felt so loved as he does in that moment.
He was so nervous about being able to get all his feelings out with words, so he wrote them down and asked Robin to spell check them and make sure they made sense, not even minding when she made fun of him about it because he wanted it to be perfect. He even typed it out on his dad’s typewriter, but when the time comes he’s afraid of stuttering and stumbling over the words as he reads them, even though they’re his words, so he just hands the note over instead.
And it’s kind of excruciating to watch Eddie read them, even though his cheeks get all pink and he twists his hair over his smile shyly. But he sits up proudly when Eddie looks up at him and tells him it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever read, and there are some truly sappy song lyrics in there.
And then he says he loves “his dumb little love letter” and that he’ll keep it forever and Steve tries not to let it get to him. Because Eddie liked it. He thought the words were good enough for a song. But he also thought it was dumb.
And he’s right, it is dumb. Just a bunch of rambles put down on paper because Steve was too afraid of saying it right out loud.
But he likes it, and that’s what matters.
So Steve shrugs and tells him next anniversary he’ll get him a dumb little box for it, and Eddie laughs, and Steve manages to forget.
And three months later, for Eddie’s birthday, he agrees to play in a oneshot Will put together for him. Eddie gets so excited and creates a character for him, a barbarian. Someone who is good at hitting things, he explains, and taking hits.
And that seems to make sense to Steve so he nods along as Eddie explains what the stats are for, and what a stat is, and why intelligence is the obvious choice for a dump stat for Steve. He puts the worst number Steve had rolled there, a five, and jokes that his character technically won’t be able to read with a score that low.
It cuts a little close to the bone, but he chooses to just be grateful he won’t have to pretend to be smart during the game.
The game is okay. Dustin gets so frustrated reminding him of what he has to roll every turn that eventually he throws his hands up and Eddie has to take over. He’s much more patient, but Steve feels bad for ruining his birthday game.
A couple months after that, Steve’s parents come home for an extended period between work trips. It’s the longest they’ve been home in years, a full two months, and Steve chafes under their presence every day.
There was a time he would have been thrilled to have them there, but now it just feels like every move he makes is being watched with scorn. If he sleeps in a little on his day off, his father calls him a lazy layabout and tells him he should be hitting the pavement in search of a better job.
If his mother catches him on the couch she warns him he’ll get flabby if he spends all his time on his butt.
He misses sharing a bed with Eddie, but he doesn’t dare to spend too many nights at the trailer park when they’re around to ask where he’s been, and obviously Eddie staying at his place is out of the question.
His father starts telling him maybe he should join the military. It wasn’t up to his standards, of course, but the Marines are good for people like Steve (read: idiots) and at least he’d be doing something worthwhile with his life even if it were as cannon fodder.
And Steve tells him he’d rather work at Scoops Ahoy in the stupid sailor outfit for the rest of time than join any kind of government institution, and that stretches into a four hour long argument about how much Steve doesn’t know about Saint Reagan and everything he’s done for the country.
His dad has this super special method of simultaneously lecturing him and making him feel like the world’s biggest idiot, and Steve’s never been able to push back against it. It’s like everything he’s ever known just immediately escapes his head and his words get all confused and he can’t explain what he’s trying to say right. So eventually he just falls quiet and listens to his dad rave and does his best to hold back the humiliated tears.
When his dad finally falls quiet and eventually leaves, it’s all he can do to scramble out to his car and drive across town to Eddie’s trailer. They’re not home, but he knows where the spare key is, so he lets himself in and goes to lay in Eddie’s bed. It’s soothing to be there, in a space that’s so loudly and unapologetically Eddie’s.
His boyfriend his messy and his bed is never made and he doesn’t dump out the ash tray on his bedside table nearly as often as he should, but the sheets are clean and soft and there’s a pile of the books Eddie is currently reading (he always reads six or seven at a time, switching when he gets bored, and somehow manages to keep all the stories straight in his head) on the floor directly next to the bed.
He picks up one with an interesting cover and flips through it. He doesn’t read any of the prose, but he does take the time to parse out Eddie’s scratchy handwriting in the margins. He writes a lot of question marks and exclamation points and draws frowny faces and smiles next to circled passages. He underlines lines he likes with thick marks and occasionally writes things like “FUCK OFF” next to ones he doesn’t.
Reading them makes Steve feel like Eddie is there with him, and it makes him smile and relax and forget about the afternoon of getting lectured by his dad.
When the front door opens, he pauses to listen the way he always does when someone comes home, whether it’s here or at his own house. He hears the jangle of keys tossed down on the table, a thud of a shoe hitting the ground, a pause, and then another thud.
He smiles to himself, able to perfectly picture Eddie tossing his keys down and kicking his shoes off lazily. He listens to the jingle of the chain on his jeans as he comes down the narrow hallway, and the faux-surprised gasp when Eddie edges the door open and looks at him.
“What is this?” He crows. “A beautiful young man in my bed, reading the sacred texts? Be still my heart!”
Steve rolls his eyes and smiles at him and holds out a hand, and Eddie climbs onto the bed beside him and wraps him up in a big bear hug. It’s cozy and wonderful and exactly what Steve needs, so he just buries his face in Eddie’s hair and listens to him talk about his day.
Or he tries to listen, but it’s been a long one and Eddie’s cadence is so soothing, and the vibration of his voice in Steve’s chest where their sternums are pressed together feels like a special kind of peace all by itself, so he kind of gets lost in it and drifts a little bit.
And then Eddie laughs and pulls back to look at him, eyes crinkled in a smile, and Steve can’t help but smile back at him, hopelessly, ridiculously in love. And then Eddie says,
“Just as I suspected. Not a thought behind those eyes.”
And Steve doesn’t really know what comes over him. A lifetime of “being a man” and playing sports and running things with Tommy H and Carol at his side had taught him how to choke down tears. He’s great at it. He can go from sobbing to fresh faced in under a minute flat when he needs to.
But for some reason he can’t stop this.
The tears that build up in his eyes just feel too big, like whole waves of water that rush up over his lids before he can even think to stop it. He tries to blink them away, tries to wipe at the corners of his eyes to pass it off as simple watering, but he can’t because they just keep coming.
Big fat tears streaming down the sides of his face towards his ears and down his cheeks. It doesn’t even feel like he’s sobbing. He doesn’t feel pressure in the back of his throat or burning in his eyes, it’s just like someone turned on a tap in his brain and let them whole room flood and he can’t hold it all back as it escapes from the only place it can.
Eddie’s smile immediately drops, and he coos and uses his thumbs to wipe away the tears as best he can. And then he leans in and starts kissing them away instead, scratching his fingers through Steve’s hair.
Steve feels like an idiot. He wants to stop crying and he just can’t and it’s absolutely humiliating.
“Baby, what’s the matter?” Eddie asks, his voice soothing and sweet and gentle, like Steve’s a time bomb of emotion and might shatter at a harsh word. Hell, maybe he might. He’s never cried like this before.
“It’s nothing,” he says, his words stuttering. “It’s really nothing, I don’t know why I’m crying.”
Eddie looks very doubtful at that. He purses his lips and eyes Steve critically and then kisses his mouth a couple of times in a row.
“Is it your dad?” He asks. “That guy is such an asshole.”
And it is, a little bit. But Steve knows that’s not what’s happening here in this moment, so he shakes his head.
“Your mom?” Eddie follows up, frowning. “Because I’m starting to get suspicious she’s trying to trap you in a gym membership pyramid scheme…”
Steve manages a wet laugh at that one, but shakes his head.
“It’s nothing,” he says, wiping away at his tears once more, though they’re immediately replaced by new ones. “It’s just been a long day, I guess. I’m feeling kind of bad, but it’s fine. I just wanted to see you. I miss you.”
And Eddie smiles at that and leans down to kiss him again.
“I miss you too,” he says, sweetly. “It’s kind of embarrassing how much. I miss elbowing you while we brush our teeth and your early alarm waking me up on Wednesdays and even your dumb polo shirts all over my floor—“
And that sets him off all over again, even though he knows it shouldn’t. It’s not like Eddie was even talking about him, that time, not really. Just his fashion sense, which he knows is boring at best. Robin tells him all the time that he looks like he fell into a Sears catalogue and couldn’t find his way out.
But something in him is apparently broken today, and the flood of tears rages even harder, and Eddie leans back to look at him with a furrowed brow.
“What?” He asks. “Don’t tell me you’re that defensive of your beloved polos?”
“No, no, don’t mind me. I don’t know what’s happening, it’s s-stupid.”
He tries not to flinch as he stutters over the word, but Eddie sees more than people give him credit for, and he coos again and kisses Steve’s wet cheeks.
“Well let’s cheer you up, huh? I think I’ve got mini chocolate chips, I’ll make you pancakes for dinner. And we can watch that dumb show you like, the one with the Narc who goes to high school? Gareth taped the last episode for me—Steve why do you keep flinching like that?”
Steve doesn’t know what to do because he can’t stop flinching and for some reason the words hurt so much more today than they usually do. And Eddie is getting mad at him refusing to answer so he just shrugs and shakes his head.
“It’s stupid. I’m sorry.”
Eddie settles back to sit cross-legged and pulls Steve upright to face him, their knees pressed together.
“It’s not stupid, okay? Whatever it is, it’s not stupid if it’s making you cry like this. Just tell me if I need to kill someone.”
Steve snorts and rolls his eyes,
“You don’t have the guts.”
“Yeah, okay, I definitely don’t. But I can craft a very detailed voodoo doll. Just say the word.”
Steve loves him. He loves him so much it scares him sometimes, because he doesn’t know where to put it all. And he knows if Eddie changes his mind, or tells him he never actually loved him at all, that he’ll fall apart. But he just can’t help himself, so all he can do is hope that he won’t ruin it.
“It’s no one,” Steve said. “Just my brain being stupid.”
“Stevie,” Eddie wheedles gently. “Stop calling my boyfriend stupid. Tell me what’s wrong.”
And Steve’s not really sure what to make of that, since literally everyone calls him stupid, so he just shrugs.
“I guess I’m just wired up because my dad spent a few hours making me feel really dumb today,” he says finally. “And I know it’s true, but it still hurts my feelings. I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much today specifically though.”
It feels pathetic to say that something hurts his feelings. He should be tougher than that, he knows it. He’s a grown man, not a child who has to be coddled. But Eddie had asked.
“I don’t see how it wouldn’t bother you,” Eddie says. “It’s not very nice. And you’re not stupid, Steve. Who told you you were stupid?”
Steve blinks at him for a long moment, wondering if this was somehow a trick question. His dad likes those kinds of things, sometimes. He’ll ask a question he already knows the answer to, just to see if he can catch Steve in something he considers a lie.
“Um…you know, just everyone?” He says hesitantly.
“Everyone?” Eddie asks doubtfully, and Steve shrugs.
“Like who?” Eddie pushes back, and Steve tries to think about how this is going to be turned around him. Whatever he says will definitely be used against him somehow, but he’s not smart enough to figure out how.
“I mean…Robin, and the kids. Especially Dustin. And you?”
Eddie blinks at him for a long moment, his face running the gamut of emotions. Steve watches carefully, trying to gauge what the reaction will be before it comes. And then Eddie just blinks at him.
He blinks for a long time. Like uncomfortably long.
And then he says, “Stevie, saying a show you like is dumb isn’t calling you dumb.”
He says it so sweet and patient, but Steve can hear in his voice how stupid he thinks Steve is for thinking that, so he just rolls his eyes and wipes away at the tears, which are mercifully beginning to stop.
“Right,” he says. “Stupid of me to—“
“Will you stop?” Eddie snaps. “You’re not stupid! I don’t know where you got this idea that I think—“
“Jesus Christ, Eddie, fine! You don’t think I’m stupid! Just the clothes I wear and the shows I watch and the things I do and the letters I write!”
Eddie is getting defensive now, his hackles are visibly rising, and Steve wishes he hadn’t come here. He should have gone out to the lake, or the quarry, or Skull Rock. Anywhere but here.
“What are you even talking about?” Eddie spits. “What things? What letters?”
“My dumb little love letter,” Steve spits, clambering off the bed. “And my empty eyes, and my fucking…stupid dopey smile or whatever. Good hair and a good ass and no brains, you say it all the time! And I know, okay? I know, but you don’t have to say it!”
“Steve,” Eddie says, his shoulders slumping, “Stevie, come on you know I don’t mean those things. I’m just teasing you!”
Steve crosses his arms over his chest and holds himself tight.
“I know,” he says. “I do know that. But…just because you’re teasing doesn’t make it not true. And a guy can only be told how stupid he is by every person he knows twenty times a day for so long before it starts to hurt, okay? I’m trying not to take it personally. I’m just having a weird day. Sorry.”
“Shit, Steve,” Eddie says, and Steve shrugs again, because he doesn’t know what to say. Words fail him once again.
“No,” Eddie says, abrupt and harsh. “No, you don’t have to be sorry. I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been a huge asshole. Literally the worst boyfriend in the world. Not even a good regular friend, just a big pile of shit all the way down.”
“No,” Steve protests immediately, hands fluttering uncertainly. He wants to comfort Eddie, but he’s not sure if they’re allowed to comfort each other right now. “No, Eddie, you’re great this is my fault. I’m being too sensitive.”
“Stop trying to comfort me when I’ve made you feel like shit,” Eddie says crossly, and Steve bites his lip. “I should be comforting you! And apologizing like a million times. Because I’ve been mean to you, over and over again and i wasn’t even trying to be. I love you, and I made you cry, and that’s really fucked up.”
“I know you didn’t mean to,” Steve says. “I should have said something. How were you supposed to know?”
Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment.
“You should have told me,” he agrees. “I hate that I’ve been hurting you for so long and you didn’t say anything.”
“I didn’t want to make a fuss,” Steve says quietly. “I thought I was handling it.”
“You shouldn’t have to handle it,” Eddie says stubbornly. “Not from me, not from your friends. Because you are smart, Steve. You’re so smart. You blow me away sometimes, with the things you remember. The connections you make. You see things in a way I never could have considered, and you make me think about my own understanding of things all the time.”
He reaches out to take Steve’s face, and then hesitates right before making contact, like he isn’t sure it’s okay. But Steve doesn’t ever want him to feel like he can’t reach out, no matter what they were arguing about, so he presses close until Eddie’s hands are warm on his cheeks.
“You are smart, Steve Harrington. You’re creative and you’re quick on your feet and you’re so thoughtful. You know I read that letter you wrote me all the time? It’s so beautiful it’s made me cry like a baby at least four times. You have trouble saying what you mean, sometimes, but what you have to say is always worth listening to. And I’m really sorry I made you think it wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry too,” Steve sniffled, his tears starting up in earnest once more. “I’m sorry I let it go so long. I’m sorry I didn’t trust that you’d react okay to me speaking up.”
“I’m sorry I made you think I wouldn’t,” Eddie responded, and Steve laughed wetly.
“We can’t keep apologizing back and forth like this. We’re gonna get stuck in a loop.”
“I’d apologize in a loop until the heat death of the universe if that’s what you needed,” Eddie said. “But if I’m honest it might be more fun to kiss and make up.”
And Steve laughed and gave him the kisses he asked for, again and again for the rest of the evening until they fell asleep curled together in soft sheets.
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