V

All played in rapid succession, he sees himself with a handful of ways to deal with Wayne’s discovery.

He could run. Turn heel and flee. Get back in the Viper and disappear.

Eddie doubts neither Wayne or Hopper could run after him, given their respective ages and the way that his Uncle’s joints creak every time he gets out of his chair.

But Hopper’s car is outside, so there’s every possibility that he’d follow in that. Eddie would like to think that there’s enough of a friendship between his Uncle and the Chief that Hop wouldn’t throw Eddie’s ass in jail, but it’s still a possibility. Even if he doesn’t, where is Eddie going to go? Sure he could jump on a plane and hide out back home in LA, but it seems cruel. Wayne is his only family. He can’t leave things like that.

He could lie. Tell Wayne that it’s all a misunderstanding. The coke and the weed he can’t really explain away, but maybe his uncle hasn’t found those yet. If it’s just the pills he’s concerned about Eddie could say they’re prescribed, from a real doctor and not some stoner out by the lake.

The look on Wayne’s face tells Eddie that it’s a stupid idea. He won’t believe him, not without some kind of proof, and Eddie has none.

He could come clean.

He could admit it all, although he’s hesitant to even admit it to himself.

That he’s been using for years, unable to function without something to bring him up and then something else later to bring him back down. Where would that leave him? He’d face the same pressure here as he does from his bandmates back home. Wayne would want him to quit. To talk to a shrink, or worse, join some sad group of junkies where they all sit around and talk about their addictions, while a pious douchebag tells them that God forgives them, and they should let his love into their hearts.

Eddie’s never believed in God. He doesn’t need some made up man with a cloak and a beard to save him.

“Sit down Eddie.” Wayne says, breaking him from his thoughts.

With no decision made on what to do or what to say, Eddie moves on autopilot.

He nudges Ludo gently aside on the couch, taking a seat and letting the pup rest its head on his lap. At least the dog doesn’t judge him. Just licks at his hands until Eddie’s trembling fingers begin to scratch between his ears.

“You’ve got some explainin’ to do boy, so you’d best start talkin’.”

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat. Sweat beads along his forehead, his stomach cramping painfully. His knees bounce, poor Ludo’s head jiggled in time with Eddie’s anxious tremors.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He admits quietly.

Wayne sighs. His fists are clenched in his lap, and Eddie knows that it’s taking all of his Uncle’s willpower not to lose it. He’s never been an angry man, not one for shouting and screaming, or hurling things across the room in a temper. That had been Eddie’s dad’s style.

“How long?” Wayne says bluntly.

Eddie shrugs his shoulders.

“A few years.”

“Anyone else know?”

“Gareth, Jeff, all the guys. Our management team.”

“And they never tried to stop you?”

“Th-they did. They wanted me to check into some rehab facility, but I wouldn’t.”

“Is that why you came home?” Wayne asks, his voice thick with emotion.

“So you could keep usin’ without them knowing?”

“It wasn’t just that.” Eddie insists.

“I really did just wanna spend time with you.”

“Bullshit.” Wayne snaps. Eddie flinches.

“You used me Ed. Doin’ all this shit under my roof, right under my goddamn nose.”

“M’sorry.” Eddie whispers.

“Sorry ain’t good enough. Not this time.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Nothin’. I don’t want you to say a word. You’re gonna listen.” Wayne says. He grabs the empty pill bottle and tosses it into Eddie’s lap.

“It’s gone. All of it.”

“W-what do you mean?” Eddie says, his panic spiking.

“I found it all and I flushed the lot.”

“Why were you going through my stuff?”

“You don’t get to take the moral high ground here!” Wayne barks, pointing a finger at Eddie’s face.

“I went into your room to grab your laundry, and like a goddamn idiot you left your bedside drawer wide open. It was all right there. I didn’t believe it at first, I didn’t think you could be so stupid.”

Wayne pauses, massaging the deep frown lines on his forehead.

“Then it all started to make sense. You suddenly comin’ home after all this time. The way you’ve been - drinking whisky like it’s water, all the naps in the middle of the day, the constant headaches. You lied to me Eddie. You lied to my face.”

Eddie can’t meet his uncle’s face now. He stares down at the floor, the floral pattern of the carpet seeming to dance before his eyes. Guilt threatens to consume him. He’s never seen Wayne so angry, so bitterly disappointed. All he’s ever wanted to do is make Wayne proud, repay him for all the years he sacrificed to give Eddie a better life.

Instead he’s a failure.

Eddie hates himself for it, but as much as he feels awful about lying to Wayne, he’s also worrying about what the hell he’s supposed to do now that his entire stash is making its way through the sewer pipes of Hawkins.

Half a bottle of Adderall remains in his pocket. It won’t help him sleep tonight, and at most he’s got enough for the next couple of days. But without anything to balance it he’ll be a jittery mess.

Eddie needn’t have worried about taking them. Wayne’s next words make it clear he won’t get the chance.

“You got anymore I should know about?” His uncle questions.

Eddie could lie, but what’s the point? He’s sure Wayne isn’t above making him turn out his pockets. He’s has already proven himself untrustworthy.

Reluctantly he hands over the bottle. His uncle takes it between two fingers, holding it out as though it were filthy, disgust written all over his face. Without saying a word he leaves the room, and a moment later Eddie hears the sound of the downstairs toilet flushing.

He shrinks back into the couch when his uncle returns. Ludo whines, upset by the obvious tension. At the other end of the couch Hopper shifts. He’s been quiet up to now, a silent observer of Wayne’s fury and Eddie’s cowardice.

“You uhh.. you happy for me to chime in now?” The cop asks.

“Please.” Wayne says with an exasperated sigh, lumping back down in his chair.

Hopper clears his throat, turning on his seat to face Eddie.

“Listen kid, I know you’re probably pretty pissed with us right now.” He says.

Eddie says nothing. He doesn’t have the energy to be pissed. He’s tired, he feels sick, he’s scared.

“We just want what’s best for you, hard as that might be to believe. So we’ve gotta talk about what happens next.”

“You gonna take me in?” Eddie asks.

“What?” Hopper asks in surprise. He shakes his head.

“No. I don’t see how that’ll help anyone. M’not here as the chief, I’m here as a friend. I know what you’re going through and I wanna help you.”

Eddie scoffs.

“How would you know what I’m going through?” He sneers before he can stop himself.

“Watch your mouth boy.” Wayne growls.

Hop waives his hand dismissively, as if Eddie’s disrespect doesn’t bother him at all.

“C’mon now kid. You and I both know it’s no secret I’ve had my issues in the past. The whole town knows about it, though most of them are too chicken shit to ever bring it up.”

There’s an element of truth to his words. Eddie’s heard all the rumours, about how the Hawkins Chief would show up for work hungover or half-cut most days, no one daring to question him because of his volatile temper.

“I couldn’t function without something to get me through the day. I was drinking until I blacked out every night. Snorting lines in the fucking cruiser on my way to work just to wake myself up enough to drive straight. Christ I can’t tell you how many times I emptied some low rank dealer’s pockets and the shit never made it into evidence.”

“I thought it was fine. I convinced myself I had it all under control. I wasn’t an addict, I wasn’t a junkie. That’s the lie we tell ourselves, right? That we’re different. That we could stop at any time but we just don’t wanna. It’s all bullshit. Thinking that way almost cost me everything.”

“You probably don’t remember, it was way back when you were still in school. I wrecked my cruiser.”

“I remember.” Eddie says quietly.

“You hit a tree out near Lover’s Lake.”

Hop nods.

“Right. Official report was that a stag ran out in front of me and I crashed swerving to avoid it. How anyone fell for that crap I don’t know. There was no deer. The road was clear, conditions were perfect, and I was out of my damn mind. It’s a blessing and a curse, the way people on the force used to cover for me. But I knew after that it couldn’t carry on. I radio’d Powell and he came to pick me up. Wrote out that bullshit about a deer on the crash report and had to hold my hand just to get me to sign it, I was shaking so bad. When he drove me home he told me it was the last time he’d ever lie for me. He told me to sort my shit out, or do everyone a favour and find a way to kill myself that didn’t mean I might also kill someone else in the process.”

Eddie winces. Hopper just shrugs.

“Sounds harsh, but it was what I needed to hear. I’d been a selfish asshole for too long. Everyone covering for me did me no favours. Real friends don’t lie to you like that Ed. You’re probably mad at your friends back home for pushing you to go to rehab, but let me tell you they’re the best damn friends you’ll ever have. Because they care about you enough to not stand by and let you wreck your life.”

“Do your other friends know?” Wayne interjects.

“The ones here?”

“No.” Eddie whispers.

“I… I’ve been lying to them too.”

“First step’s admitting it kid.” Hopper says, patting Eddie firmly on the shoulder.

“You gotta long way to go, but even this is progress.”

“What am I supposed to do now?” Eddie says. He looks up at Wayne, the old man’s face blurring behind the tears that pool on his lash line.

“You gonna make me go to rehab?”

Wayne scoffs.

“No.” He says, shaking his head.

“I ain’t sending you off to some place with a bunch of strangers, where you could talk your way out of it and then just go back to doing the same stuff as before. I’m gonna keep you here where I can keep a close eye on you. There’s gonna be a lot of rules Eddie, and you’re gonna stick to em.”

“Like what?” Eddie asks hesitantly.

“You will not leave this house.” Wayne says solemnly.

“If me or Jim aren’t with you then you will not set foot outside the front door. I’ve cancelled my shifts at the plant for the next few weeks so I’ll be here all the time. And Jim’s takin’ your car keys.”

Eddie doesn’t bother arguing. He knows this is a battle that he won’t win.

“You’re in for a rough few weeks.” Hop says with a grimace.

“Going cold turkey is hell on Earth kid. You’re gonna feel like you’re dying, and you’re gonna hate us for it. But once we get you out the other side of it we can begin the real work.”

“Which is what?”

“There’s a group. It’s a little ways outta Hawkins, just a few towns over. S’where I went when I got serious about staying clean. I still go now once a week. Once you’re ready I’ll be taking you with me.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“Can’t I just get clean here and then leave it at that?”

“No way. You need a support system, one that’s better equipped than just me and your old man. It ain’t as bad as you’re picturing, trust me.”

Eddie’s not sure that he does trust Hop. But he’s been left with little other choice.

His stomach twists, another wave of nausea washing over him. Eddie’s eyes widen in a panic, a ringed palm clamping over his mouth. He half runs half stumbles to the bathroom. His knees crash painfully against the floor, and he lifts the lid of the toilet just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the same bowl that Wayne had just flushed his lifeline down. Eddie wretches and gags, his shoulders heaving and tears streaming down his face.

A hand comes to rest on his back.

“S’alright son. You’re gonna be alright.” Wayne says, his voice softer than it’s been all evening. He rubs soothing circles between Eddie’s shoulder blades.

“You’d better get used to your head being in a toilet kid.” Hopper says from the doorway.

Eddie opens his mouth to tell him to piss off. He doesn’t get the chance when his stomach turns over again.

————————————💌———————————

Hell is real.

It’s real and Eddie’s in it.

Hell is this bed that he hasn’t left for days, with the exception of a handful of bathroom visits where he’s needed his Uncle’s arm around his waist just to keep him upright.

Hell is the sweat soaked sheets sticking to his skin, his body burning up despite the shivers that jolt through him violently, his limbs convulsing in seizure like movements.

Hell is the bucket on the bedroom floor that Wayne is forced to empty frequently. The last time Eddie managed to eat and keep it down was when you made him blueberry pancakes. His favourite.

Now even water has his stomach feeling like it’s turning inside out. Eddie’s weakened by dehydration and hunger, his throat burning and mouth constantly sour. He sleeps in small bursts, drifting off for what feels like only minutes before the pain has him waking.

Everything hurts. His bones ache. His head throbs. His eyelids are like sandpaper scraping with every blink.

For the first few days Eddie had the strength to put up a fight.

Hopper had been forced to stay, it took both him and Wayne to keep Eddie in his bed, to keep him from breaking out of his room. He made it out only once, pushing past them both and sprinting to the stairs, practically throwing himself down them. He scrambled to the front door, yanking with all his strength at the handle but it refused to budge. It was locked. Eddie was in the process of rummaging through the pockets of Wayne’s coat that hung nearby in search of keys when footsteps thundered down the stairs. Hopper slammed into him, sending him crashing sideways to the floor. All the air was punched from his chest, sharp pain shooting through his shoulder. The chief took his arms and dragged him up back up the stairs, Wayne doing his best to hold onto Eddie’s ankles and dodge the kicks that were aimed his way. It was a miracle they managed to get him back to his room at all, let alone with no one sustaining any serious injuries.

Eddie screamed until his throat was raw, hurling abuse at the two men with no real idea of what he was saying. He cursed them out, called them every vile name he could think of, blamed them for his pain, for the fire that burned in his veins. They never said an unkind word back. Took all the vitriol and hatred without complaint.

Then came the bargaining.

Eddie begged. Threw himself at Wayne’s feet and wept. He was going to die, he was sure of it. He couldn’t do this. He needed something, anything, just enough to dull the ache. He swore he’d quit, but he needed to taper off. If Wayne would just call Rick, let him have a handful of pills, a joint, Christ even just a shot at this point would do.

He never gave in.

Wayne sat at Eddie’s bedside while he sobbed and pleaded, shedding a few tears of his own. He wiped at the crepey skin beneath his eyes quickly, not wanting Eddie to see.

It was like Eddie was a child again. Home sick from school with some fever or bug. Wayne wiped at his clammy forehead with a damp cloth, held a glass of water to his lips when the violent shaking of Eddie’s hands meant he couldn’t do it himself. He murmured quiet soothing words in that raspy drawl of his, wrinkled hands clasping tight to Eddie’s when the boy cried out in pain. He must have hardly eaten or slept himself in those days.

Liz came by to drop off meals. She never came into Eddie’s room, a fact he’d later be grateful for. It was hardly an appropriate first meeting. But sometimes Eddie heard her voice from the hallway, Wayne slipping out for just a moment to talk to her.

Eddie was ruining his uncle’s life, he was sure of it. In the brief moments where the pain subsided enough for Eddie to have a semblance of clear thought he felt disgusted and ashamed. All these years he’d been masquerading at having his shit together. Playing some fantasy game, convincing himself that he was capable of being independent, of making good decisions. He was a rockstar, a hero and role model to thousands. He was a good man.

No.

He was just a fraud.

When the worst days finally pass Eddie sleeps. He has no idea how long he’s out for. Wayne periodically wakes him, having to shake his shoulders roughly to rouse him from unconsciousness. He pours water down his throat, tries his best to spoon a few scoops of mushy cereal into Eddie’s mouth. Then he lets him sleep again.

————————————💌———————————

On a random Wednesday morning Eddie finally makes it out of bed. Tired and aching, but no longer in constant pain, he shuffles along the hallway to the top of the stairs. Worried that his wobbling legs might give out and send him tumbling down, he chooses to sit on his butt and slide down the steps one at a time. The last thing he needs is a broken neck.

It takes most of Eddie’s strength to pull himself up when he reaches the bottom, both hands gripping the bannister tight for support as he hauls himself to his feet.

Ludo, having heard his grunts of exertion, comes scampering down the hall, circling Eddie’s legs excitedly. Eddie bites his tongue, not wanting to snap at the poor pup for almost tripping him up.

He begins to make his way to the kitchen taking baby steps, the linoleum floor cold beneath his bare feet. He pokes his head around the doorway, finding Wayne sat at the kitchen table. A steaming mug of coffee held between his hands, the older man stares out of the window at the dull grey sky and empty branches, all the trees having long shed their leaves.

“Looks like it might snow.” Eddie croaks.

Wayne flinches. Coffee sloshes over the side of his mug and puddles on the table top.

“Jesus Christ Eddie. I didn’t hear you comin’”.

“Sorry.” Eddie mutters. He approaches the table and pulls back a chair, lumping down into it and sighing in relief.

“S’a good sign you’re up and about.” Wayne comments.

“How’re you feeling?”

Eddie pauses. He stares out of the window himself for a moment. A few lonely flakes begin to drift down.

“M’alright.” He says finally.

“My head hurts. But not as bad as before.”

“That’s good. You hungry?”

Eddie nods.

“Starving.”

“Thought you might be. Let me fix you somethin’.”

Eddie wishes he had the strength to do it himself. But in the past couple of weeks he’s got used to having to accept help. He watches in silence as Wayne moves around the kitchen, putting two slices of bread in the toaster and pouring another mug of coffee. He chucks four teaspoons of sugar in it, then slides it over to Eddie with a small smile.

“Figured you needed a little boost.”

“Thanks.” Eddie mutters. The warmth of the cup is pleasant in his hands, and his mouth begins to salivate when the familiar comforting scent reaches his nose. He takes small sips, his eyes rolling back when the first drops hit his tongue. Maybe that’s why recovering addicts drink so much coffee, he thinks to himself. After so long without anything rushing in his bloodstream the sudden hit of caffeine makes his heart beat faster. It’s the closest he’ll get to a mind altering substance again.

Eddie eats the two slices of toast that Wayne passes him. They’re gone in seconds. Wayne hands him two more slices, and Eddie soon polishes those off too.

“Can I have more?” Eddie asks, crumbs falling from his full mouth.

“I think you’d best take it easy son. You ain’t eaten much for a while, don’t want to overdo it.” Wayne says.

“Give it an hour or so. You keep that down and I’ll make you more.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t want to be reminded about all the time he’s spent recently with his head in the toilet bowl or a bucket. Hopper had been right about that.

Eddie leans back in his chair, the last of his coffee gone. He feels a little better now, a full stomach lifting his spirits. The room has stopped spinning, and his limbs no longer feel like deadweights he has to drag around.

Eddie breathes in deeply. Something sour hits his nose, a gross musty scent that has him shuddering. With a considerable amount of horror he realises it’s himself that he can smell.

“Oh god.” He groans.

“I stink.”

Wayne chuckles.

“I didn’t like to mention it, but yeah you do.”

“Do I look bad?” Eddie asks.

“Awful.” Wayne says. He pats Eddie on the shoulder.

“Nothin’ a shower and a comb through that mop of yours can’t fix.”

“Okay.” Eddie says, preparing himself mentally for the task ahead.

“I’m gonna jump in the shower now. Sort myself out a bit.”

Wayne nods.

“Just shout if you need help. Don’t go hurtin’ yourself.”

“I’ll be careful.” Eddie says, his chair legs scraping across the floor. He’s needed help with almost everything lately. He draws the line at showering with assistance.

Eddie could have maybe done with asking for help to get back upstairs. Climbing them feels like scaling some great mountain peak. Eddie’s sweating by the time he reaches the top, his steps heavy as he drags himself to the bathroom.

He keeps the water cool, worried that if he fills the small room with steam he might pass out. Sweat and grime runs from his pale skin, trickling down the drain. If only he could wash his guilt away so easily.

As he massages shampoo onto his oily scalp, doing his best to unpick the tangles with his fingers, Eddie’s thoughts turn to his friends.

He didn’t think to ask Wayne if you’d called. Had you, and Steve, and Robin been wondering about his sudden disappearance? He hopes to god that you don’t all think he’s left without a proper goodbye. He’s not sure he’d be forgiven.

He equally hopes that Wayne hasn’t told them to truth.

Eddie knows at some point he’ll have to be honest. It’s gone too far now, he can’t keep up the lies. But how exactly do you start a conversation like that? It’s hardly something you can drop in casually.

“Oh my day was great thanks. By the way I’m a fucking addict.”

It was probably the kind of topic that required a serious sit down. The thought makes Eddie feel sick. Imagining you all sitting awkwardly in Wayne’s front room, or maybe Steve and Rob’s place. Gathered and waiting, all confused and anxious about what he had to say. You’d all be looking at him expectantly. He’d choke. He knows he would. He stumble and trip over his words, humiliated beyond belief. He doubts he’d be able to say it without crying, which is pathetic. Just a privileged rich boy whining about how much of a stereotype he’s become.

Eddie screws his eyes closed in frustration, pressing his fists to them until bright colours spark behind his lids. The shampoo has begun to seep into his eyes and it stings, but he doesn’t turn to the stream of water and rinse them clear. There’s something about the pain that feels earned.

The worst part is he feels like he’s got no reason to be in the situation he now finds himself. It might be more understandable, sympathetic even, if he’d suffered some great tragedy - the drugs a kind of self medication. Those were the kinds of people you felt sorry for. Ones who used to escape, to hide from their pain, to block out the real world.

Eddie used for fun. Life had been one big party, until it wasn’t. Until he was the only one left standing at the end of the night, a hanger on trying to keep the celebration going when everyone else has long since had enough.

How many times had he woken in the morning somewhere unfamiliar, surrounded by people he couldn’t name? How many times had he cut up lines on a sticky table in an anonymous green room, just to be the only one snorting them, everyone else looking on with a mixture of disgust and pity? How many times had his friends had to roll him onto his side in his bunk, stuffing pillows against his back because they were terrified he’d choke on his own vomit in his sleep?

It was no kind of life. It was a joke.

And Eddie was the punchline.

————————————💌———————————

Eddie steps out of the shower, smelling cleaner but still feeling dirty. He reaches for his toothbrush, but he startles and it clatters into the sink.

There’s a stranger in the mirror.

The pale face that blinks back at him is someone he doesn’t recognise. Someone who quite frankly scares him.

He’s lost more weight. Enough that his cheekbones are sharp and sunken, the line of his jaw like a razors edge. His collarbones protrude, his ribs visible beneath the dark ink across his chest. His skin is almost grey, dull and dry, his lips pale and chapped.

Eddie realises then that he does know this person. He’s seen him once before.

Back in the trailer that he grew up in, he’d been maybe seven or eight. Eddie had been snooping. He knew Wayne had a couple of medals from his days in the military, days he preferred not to reminisce on. There was some snot nosed little twerp in Forest Hill’s, Harry or Henry, who remembers? He didn’t believe Eddie when he said that his uncle used to be more than just an ex-trucker turned plant worker. He’d called Eddie a liar.

So Eddie was searching for proof. The medals had to be somewhere, they weren’t the kind of things you threw out. While Wayne worked the late shift Eddie tore through their home. Emptying drawers and cabinets, balancing on wobbling stools to reach the highest shelves.

He never found the medals. After a while he forgot what he’d even been searching for in the first place. There was a manilla envelope stuffed in the bottom of a shoebox in the back of the closet. It wouldn’t have caught his attention if it wasn’t for one small detail. It had Eddie’s name on the front.

Edward Alan Munson written in tiny typed letters.

It never occurred to Eddie not to open it. It had his name on it. So it must have been his.

Inside there were pages upon pages of notes. Descriptions of an address he could only vaguely remember, some apartment in Lafayette. Eddie couldn’t read the big words, but some smaller ones stood out.

Dirty.

Empty fridge.

Lice.

Eddie flipped through the pages with a frown on his face. His dad’s name appeared a lot on those pages. His mom’s too.

At the back there’d been a photograph. A grainy black and white square. It was of a boy. Younger than Eddie, and smaller too. He was stood wearing only a dirty pair of baseball shorts, the drawstring pulled tight to keep them up around his narrow hips, the fabric too long and hanging past his knees. The boy’s chest was thin and fragile, every bone threatening to break through the skin. He was covered in bruises, the clear shape of fingerprints visible on his thin arms. The boy’s head looked too big for his body some how, like a lollipop balanced on top of a stick. His hair was matted and wild, dark eyes glancing up at the camera with a tearful expression.

Eddie had snapped the folder closed and stuffed it roughly back in the envelope. He locked it away in its shoe box and slammed the closet door. Then he sat in silence in the living room, staring at the blank TV screen until the outside light faded and his uncle finally came home.

Eddie never told Wayne that he’d seen it. And he never went looking for it again, not even when he was older and able to read the big words.

He didn’t want to know what they said.

The little boy from the photograph stares at Eddie now, trapped behind misted up glass. He’s taller and his hair is longer. There’s tattoos now where before had been bruises.

He still looks terrified.

It rattles Eddie. Is this who Wayne sees when he looks at him now? The tiny, trembling boy who’d been handed over to him by CPS, a child he hadn’t even known existed until they called out of the blue and said Wayne could take him or he’d go in a foster home.

Wayne had worked so hard. Eddie doesn’t remember much of those early days, too young to take much of it in, but he remembers being so frightened, living somewhere new with someone he didn’t know. Wayne had been patient and gentle, never pushing him too far. He gave Eddie the kind of love he hadn’t known before, and waited for the little boy to realise it wasn’t conditional. It wasn’t about to be taken away. He was safe.

In a daze Eddie dries himself and walks back to his room to dress in clean clothes. When he steps inside the bed has been stripped, the sheets replaced and pillows fluffed, the window open just a crack to let in fresh air. Tears sting Eddie’s eyes. Even all these years later Wayne was still taking care of him. He was still trying to make sure that Eddie knew he was loved and safe.

He heads back down stairs. His Uncle is loading the dirty bed linens into the washer, stooped over as he chucks in a heaped scoop of Tide.

“Wayne?” Eddie whispers, his voice cracking.

His uncle turns.

Before he can say a word Eddie crosses the utility room, throwing his arms around the older man’s shoulders. He chokes on a sob, pressing his face against Wayne’s shoulder so the soft cotton of his shirt can catch his tears.

“Oh. Ed, it’s alright. S’okay son, I’ve got ya.” Wayne says softly. He wraps Eddie in a tight embrace. It feels like his arms are the only thing holding Eddie together.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie cries.

“I’m so so sorry. For everything.”

“I know.” Wayne whispers.

“I know you are. And I forgive ya, it’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry anymore, alright? We’re gonna figure this out. It’s what we do. No matter what shitty hand we get dealt we deal with it together.”

Eddie cries harder. It was so easy for his uncle to forgive him. Eddie’s not sure he deserves it. He’s caused a lot of pain. Hurt a lot of people. He’s got a long way to go before the weight of guilt crushing his chest will begin to lift.

————————————💌———————————

The following days are quiet. Eddie begins to feel a little more normal, his body over the worst of the withdrawal. He can eat now without his stomach churning, and he sleeps okay despite not taking anything to knock him out.

Wayne continues to stay off work. It’s nice to have his company. Eddie and him talk, really talk, for the first time in a long time. Hours spent with Wayne in his chair, Eddie on the couch, endless cups of coffee sipped as they reminisce on old times. Eddie fills Wayne in on the details of his life the last few years. Still editing the stories a little - there was no need for his uncle to know the full extent of the debauchery. But he tells him the good stuff, about sold out shows and award ceremonies, all the kids who line up outside arenas and hotel rooms just to get a glimpse of him. How he’d felt a sense of pride for the first time, when nervous gawky teens with bad hair cuts and denim jackets emblazoned with patches would tell him that he inspired them, that they made music because of him. Wayne looks proud too.

Wayne fills in gaps for Eddie too. Tells him about meeting Liz for the first time, when they’d both been reaching for the last box of Raisin Bran on the shelf at Melvad’s, and had joked about two old people staring a brawl in the aisles for some cereal. How Wayne let her take the box and thought that would be the end of the interaction, until they stood beside one another in the checkout line, and every time Wayne raised his head she was smiling at him. Then in the parking lot her Volvo was next to Wayne’s truck. Like a true gentleman Wayne helped her load her groceries into the trunk and cracked a joke about swiping the cereal when she wasn’t looking. She’d laughed. Then to his surprise she handed him her cellphone number. The rest was history. Wayne seems almost embarrassed, shy about his obvious love for her. Eddie thinks it’s cute. Tells him as much just to watch his uncle blush like a schoolboy. Wayne promises she’ll come meet him soon, how she’s always asking about how he’s doing. But they’ll wait until Eddie’s ready. He appreciates the patience.

————————————💌———————————

One morning the phone rings, right as Eddie drains his second mug of coffee.

“Get that for me, will ya Ed?” Wayne asks, busy trying to wrestle a very excitable Ludo into his harness so they can go for a walk.

Eddie picks up the receiver.

“Munson residence.”

“Eddie?”

His heart skips a beat.

It feels like an eternity since he’d heard your voice.

“Oh. H-hi, yeah it’s me.” He says.

“How are you feeling? Wayne told me you were sick.”

Eddie clears his throat. From across the room Wayne flashes him a puzzled look, mouthing “who is it?”.

Eddie waives his hand dismissively.

“Uh yeah. I’ve not been feeling to great for the last few weeks. But I’m doing a lot better now.” He says.

He hears the quiet sigh of relief you exhale.

“That’s good. I’ve been worried about, we all have. Steve said he hadn’t heard from you either.”

“Yeah, I haven’t really been up to talking to anyone, y’know?” Eddie says. He winds the cord tight around his finger, the tip beginning to throb from trapped blood flow.

“What was wrong?” You asks.

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath. It was the question he was hoping you wouldn’t ask.

“Sorry.” You say quickly.

“That was rude, I shouldn’t… it’s none of my business.”

“N-no, it’s fine. I just… it… god.” He stammers.

“Teddy? Are you sure you’re alright?”

The nickname hits like a hammer blow. A sucker punch straight to the chest, Eddie feels his organs sting as though his ribs had cracked and punctured them. He hasn’t been Teddy in years. That name had been yours alone.

“I’m okay.” He whispers.

“But it’s just hard to explain over the phone.”

You pause. Eddie can hear you breathing softly.

“Do you want me to come over?”

Eddie glances up. Wayne is still stood by the door looking at him expectantly. Ludo whines by his feet, nudging his wet nose against his master’s leg insistently.

“Um.. yeah. That would be good. Do you think you could ask Steve and Rob to come too?” He asks. Might as well rip the bandaid off.

“Okay. Are you free tonight? Maybe we could come by after work.”

“Tonight is good.” Eddie nods.

“Alright. Well Rob’s here obviously so I’ll tell her. And I’ll give Steve a call. Shall we say seven?”

“Yep. Perfect. I’ll uh.. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay. See you later Eddie.”

He hangs up the phone silently wishing that you’d called him Teddy again.

“Everythin’ alright?” Wayne asks.

Eddie nods and wipes his clammy palms on the front of his shirt.

“I should have asked first I guess, but is it alright if my friends come over tonight?” Eddie asks.

“You’re a grown man Ed, you ain’t got to ask my permission for that.” Wayne says softly.

“I know. But it’s your house, and I know I’m not supposed to leave at the moment, so I didn’t know if-“

“Eddie.” Wayne interrupts.

“It’s okay. It’s really okay. Do you want me to make myself scarce later or stick around?”

“I… could you stay?” Eddie asks. If the conversation takes a turn for the worst he’d like to have Wayne around as a shoulder to cry on.

“‘Course I can. I can give you some space when they get here, but I’ll be around if you need me.” His uncle smiles.

“Thanks Wayne.” Eddie says. The older man nods, a look in his eyes that tells Eddie he understands that he’s thanking him for more than just this small act of kindness. Eddie’s grateful for everything.

While his uncle is out walking the dog Eddie takes a long shower. He still doesn’t look great, skinny and paler than usual, the bags under his eyes that persist despite all the sleep he’s been getting. But he’s determined to look as good as he can, wanting to prove to his friends, and maybe to himself that he’s really getting better. That in-spite of what he was going to have to admit to tonight, he was moving in the right direction, taking care of himself better than he ever has before.

It feels nice to spend time on himself like this. Eddie’s leant into the whole grungy rockstar thing for a while now. It’s not like he’s unclean or anything. But no one expected him to be prim and polished.

If he slept in his eyeliner then it always looked better the next day, smoky and smudged around his dark eyes.

His jeans were always full of rips and holes, hanging low on his hips so that the band of his boxers showed, or on the days when he didn’t bother with anything underneath the dark hair that sprouted beneath his navel peaked over. That really drove the groupies wild.

His curls were his signature - frizzy and wild. A sleazy gossip mag had once described him as ‘As untamable as his hair’.

Eddie took the headline as a compliment.

Now he piles his conditioned curls into a topknot, letting the product sink in. Pale flesh glows salmon pink beneath the steaming water, every inch of skin scrubbed with a sudsy loofah. He stays beneath the stream until his fingers and toes prune, only then rinsing his hair and stepping out.

He squeezes dollops of expensive curl cream into his palms, combing it through with his fingers, twirling and defining every strand. Brushes his teeth until his gums are sore. Rubs cream on his face that some model ex-hookup had encouraged him to buy, a French brand he couldn’t pronounce filled with ingredients that sounded like they were out of a sci-fi novel.

By the time he’s finished Eddie’s skin glows, his curls hanging perfectly without a hint of frizz. He sprays Dior Fahrenheit on his neck and then his wrists, rubbing them together even though the girl in the store tutted and said he “really shouldn’t do that”.

In his room he agonises over what to wear. It’s stupid, he knows that. He’s only seeing his friends not dressing for some big interview. But he still feels the pressure to make the right impression. If his words don’t do a good job of conveying just how serious he is about his recovery, then he wants his image to help out. In some ways it makes sense, so much of Eddie’s life these past few years has been about image. Staying relevant, staying cool, looking good without looking like he tried too hard to look good. Image wasn’t everything in Eddie’s business, but it was a bit portion of it. First impressions count, and Eddie needs this new version of himself to strike the right chords.

Clean laundry begins to make a pile on the bedroom floor, each item discarded because it’s not right. The button up is too formal, stiff and awkward. The plain white t-shirt seems too heavy a contrast to his usual all black uniform, like he’s trying to prove that that he’s pure and innocent when he’s far from it. Band shirts feel too casual, like he’s not taking this seriously enough.

After the best part of an hour, he settles on something that feels like it might do. A thin black Henley and simple black jeans, slashed at the knees but otherwise unripped. He has to tighten his belt more than usual to keep them up around his narrow hips.

When he makes his way downstairs Wayne is reading the paper in his armchair. He peers over the pages, and perhaps sensing Eddie’s anxiety he offers a small nod of approval.

“You look nice.” Wayne says.

Eddie sighs in relief.

He’s made one error though. Getting ready so early means he has nothing to do now but wait. Eddie glances at the clock on the wall. It’s a little after twelve. He’s got almost seven hours to wait before you arrive.

He picks up his tattered copy of The Two Towers. The words jump and dance across the page. He rereads the same paragraph four times without taking any of it in before he gives up and throws the paperback aside with a huff.

He drinks a coffee. Then another. And another.

By two o’clock his hands are shaking. Eddie decides that laying off the caffeine might be a good idea.

He paces back and forth across the living room, until Wayne finally tells him to stop because “you’re making me dizzy wanderin’ around like that.”

He watches TV, but not really, staring at the screen vacantly as the unconvincing actors play out their melodrama, or a guy with a wonky fringe and big teeth gets all the answers wrong on Jeopardy!, even the easy ones.

Wayne calls him into the kitchen just before six. Pushes a plate of baked ziti his way and tells him to eat up. Every mouthful sticks in his throat. Eddie manages a quarter of the meal. He shoots Wayne an apologetic look.

“S’alright kid.” His uncle says softly.

“I wouldn’t have much of an appetite either. I’ll stick it in the fridge, you can heat it up later if you want.”

Half an hour. Just thirty minutes until you all arrive. Until Eddie has to face the music.

He slips into the backyard. Ludo follows, and Eddie halfheartedly tosses a ball for him to fetch while he chain smokes three cigarettes. The one habit he hasn’t kicked. Dizzy from the nicotine, or maybe just the lack of clean oxygen Eddie heads back inside, brushing his teeth once more and squirting more aftershave on his neck to somewhat mask the smell of smoke.

Downstairs the doorbell rings. Eddie nearly drops the bottle into the sink.

He moves to linger at the top of the stairs. He can hear you all: your voice soft as you greet Wayne, Steve exclaiming in excitement at Ludo, whose claws tap on the wooden floor eagerly, no doubt thrilled to have visitors who will make a fuss of him.

“Ed!” Wayne shouts.

“Everyone’s here!”

“Coming!” Eddie calls back.

His palms are clammy as he grips the bannister. He hasn’t felt this nervous since god knows when. It’s like Corroded Coffin’s first arena show all over again, when he’d been so terrified that he threw up in the green room just moments before walking onstage.

But that got easier. It was second nature now. Eddie could walk out to thousands of strangers without batting an eyelid, not a hint of fear because he knew he could handle it. He was made for it. And if he could handle that, then surely he could do this.

Eddie descends the stairs imagining that he’s walking through a venue. This isn’t Wayne’s hallway, it’s backstage of Madison Square Garden. The family photos that line the walls are posters for Corroded Coffin’s biggest headline tour to date. The scuffed wooden floor beneath his feet is actually grimy linoleum, sticky with spilt beer and the blood, sweat, and tears of all the icons that came before him. There’s no plywood door before him, it’s a heavy draped curtain, that will part and reveal his adoring fans, all waiting on the edges of their seat to see Eddie do what he does best. To see him perform.

No one screams when Eddie steps into the room. There’s no rapturous applause, no dazzling lights, no pyrotechnics.

The living room is quiet. His adoring crowd is just three of his close friends, all sat in a row on the couch, accepting mugs of tea from his uncle. There’s no spotlight on Eddie, just the amber glow cast from the sconces, and there’s sure as hell no flames being spat up into the air.

“Hey Ed.” Steve smiles.

Eddie says nothing. He does nothing. Steve’s smile fades to a look of concern.

“You alright son?” Wayne whispers.

This is one performance that Eddie won’t master. The reviews will be terrible - “Corroded Coffin frontman blows it on stage!” He’s forgotten his cues, can’t recall the lyrics that he wrote himself, his clumsy fingers won’t play the right chords. He just stands there in silence.

“Hey.”

A gentle hand lands on his shoulder. Eddie looks at Wayne in bewilderment. His uncle’s pale eyes are kind. Always so kind.

“Why don’t you sit down?”

Eddie nods. Let’s himself be guided to his uncle’s favourite chair. You and Robin and Steve all watch, concern etched on your faces.

“You want me to stay?” Wayne asks.

“No.” Eddie whispers. He shakes his head.

“M’alright. I’ve got it.”

“Okay. I’ll be upstairs.” Wayne says. He squeezes Eddie’s shoulder once before leaving.

Robin looks over to Steve. He shares her confused expression, giving a tiny shrug of his shoulders.

“Eddie?” You say quietly.

“Are you alright?”

He nods.

Steve leans forward.

“Can you uh… can you say something man? You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

“S-sorry.” Eddie whispers. He clenches his fists on his lap, his knuckles turning white.

“Are you still sick? Because no offence but I really don’t wanna catch anything.” Robin says. Steve digs his elbow into her ribs.

“Hey! Asshole, what was that for?”

“Rob shut up.”

“You shut up!”

“I’m not sick.” Eddie says, cutting off their bickering.

“At least… I don’t have anything you can catch.”

“Wh-what?” You ask, voice tight with panic.

“What’s wrong Ed? What’s happened?”

Eddie realises too late the mistake he’s made, sees the tears already welling in your eyes and the way your tea threatens to slosh over the side of your cup from the shaking of your hands. You think he’s ill. Really ill. Like your mom.

“No! No it’s not like that.” He says quickly.

“I promise. I’m not sick, there’s nothing wrong with me, I swear.”

The tension drops from your shoulders but only slightly.

“Are you sure?” Robin says hesitantly.

“Because you look kinda… rough.”

Eddie winces.

“I’m sure. It’s… it’s hard to explain.”

“Take your time.” Steve says. You and Rob nod in unison.

Eddie kind of wishes that the seating arrangements were different. It does feel somewhat like an interview now, the three of you sat in a row staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to hurry up and spit it out.

“I… I haven’t been entirely honest with you guys. About why I came back to Hawkins.”

No one says anything. Eddie takes it as his cue to continue.

“I um, I kind of got myself into trouble back home. With the band and stuff. They weren’t happy with something I did, something I was doing. So they wanted me to do something I didn’t want to do. I came here so I wouldn’t have to do it.”

Steve tilts his head. The action reminds Eddie of when he’d tried to teach Ludo a new trick. He’d given Eddie a similarly confused look, like he didn’t understand why Eddie kept saying “shake” over and over while lifting his front paw.

“Ed, I’m sorry man, I’m really trying to follow you here. But uhh… you’ve lost me.”

Eddie sighs. He looks down at his lap, pulling a loose thread at the edge of the rip by his knee.

Time to rip the bandaid off.

“Drugs. I’m talking about drugs Steve. I’ve been using for years, a bunch of different stuff. We all did it at first, it was like.. part of the lifestyle, I guess? It was fun. Until it wasn’t. Everyone else grew up and moved on and I just stayed in one place. I couldn’t give it up like they could. I thought it was just because I didn’t want to. That’s what I told myself. But I had a problem. I… I have a problem. That’s why I came home. The guys wanted me to go to rehab, and I refused. I came here to get away from it all, I told them I was coming home to get clean. I lied. And I’ve been lying ever since. I lied to you guys, I lied to Wayne. I fucking lied to myself. And then shit hit the fan and Wayne found out and I couldn’t fucking run from it anymore. He wouldn’t let me. Yeah I’ve been ill, but it was all self inflicted. I had to detox, quit everything all at once even though I thought it might kill me. That’s why I’ve not been around the last few weeks. That’s why I look like shit. But I’m clean now. I swear, I’m totally fucking clean, I haven’t even been drinking. I’ve given it all up and I’m sorry. I’m just really fucking sorry.”

Eddie’s not sure when he started crying. All he knows is that one minute his face was dry, and the next tears were rolling down his cheeks, trickling down his throat and wetting the neck of his shirt. His chest heaves, deep sobs tearing from his throat, his shoulders shaking with the force of them. He buries his face in his hands and weeps, still mumbling apologies between gasps for breath.

Beyond the sounds he makes there is silence. No one says a word. Eddie can’t bring himself to raise his head, can’t bring himself to look at his friends. He’s sure from your silence that you’re all disgusted with him. His apologies aren’t good enough. He’s done too much damage to be forgiven.

The couch creaks as someone stands. Footsteps pad softly across the carpet. You’ll leave. You’ll all leave him here crying like a child and feeling sorry for himself.

Whoever it is that’s stood doesn’t leave. They drop to their knees beside Eddie and wind their arms tight around his shoulders. Eddie breathes in, catching the cinnamon and jasmine of your perfume. Your cheek rests atop his curls and you squeeze him tighter, your voice trembling when you speak.

“It’s okay Teddy. It’s gonna be okay.”

Eddie cries harder. Someone else holds him then, their arms folding over yours.

“You don’t have to say sorry Ed.” Steve says, his voice thick.

Robin sniffles as she too joins the fold, her hand rubbing soothing circles over Eddie’s back.

“But we forgive you.” She whispers.

“If that’s what you’re worried about, then we forgive you.”

“I don’t deserve it.” Eddie sobs.

“You do.” You murmur. You tuck your head down until your face is pressed to his neck, your breath hot against his skin.

“You do deserve it. We’ve got you Teddy. Okay? We’re not going anywhere.”

The four of you stay like that for a while. Even though your knees must ache, and it must hurt Steve’s back to be stopped over awkwardly. No one pulls away. No one leaves. You all just keep holding the fractured pieces of Eddie together.

When he exhausts himself, having cried all the tears he has left, Eddie sniffs and sits up. He blinks, your blurry faces becoming clearer. You’ve all been crying too. Mascara streaks down your face. Robin’s cheeks are flushed, and Steve’s eyes are watery and bloodshot.

Your palm is warm on his cheek. Your thumb gentle when it sweeps away the tears that linger.

“M’proud of you.” You smile.

“Everyone keeps saying that. I don’t feel like I’ve done much to be proud of.” Eddie mumbles.

“Well you have.” You insist.

“It takes a lot to admit that you need help Teddy. It’s brave to hold your hands up and say you’ve made a mistake.”

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

“None that can’t be fixed.”

“And it’s not like you’ve done anything that bad.” Robin says.

“I just told you I’m addicted to drugs Rob.”

“So?”

Despite everything Eddie manages to give her an incredulous look.

“I’m serious! So you’re a musician who messed around with shit and got in over his head. It’s a tale as old as time.”

“Does anyone else find it crazy that Rob’s not totally freaking out over this?” Eddie asks.

“Alright. Look, I know I’ve given you a hard time before. But I’m not a total asshole. This is different. You’ve fucked up and you’ve admitted it. Taking drugs doesn’t make you a bad person Eddie.”

“Yeah.” Steve nods.

“And you said you’re clean now, so like… is that it? Like you’re cured?”

“Nah, it’s not as simple as that.” Eddie grimaces.

“Hop says I’ve got to join a support group.”

“Hop knows?” Steve says.

“Yep.”

“Huh. Makes sense I guess. He’s been there done that.” Robin shrugs.

“What’s the group for? Is it like therapy?” You ask. You’re still crouched at Eddie’s side, your hand having dropped from his face to curl protectively around his own.

“I think it’s kind of similar to AA? I don’t really know.” Eddie admits.

“Either way I think it’s gonna suck.”

“Maybe. But it might be good in the long run. To talk to people who understand what it’s like.”

Eddie makes a sound that’s vaguely affirmative. He’s still not convinced the group will be useful, but he’s got little choice in the matter.

“Do you feel any better now that you’ve told us?” You ask.

“Yeah, kinda. I still feel pretty crappy. It’s like… I know we’ve all just reconnected, y’know? And I don’t want to undo that.”

“You haven’t.” You say quickly.

“What kind of friends would we be if we turned our back on you over something like this?” Steve chimes in, patting Eddie’s shoulder.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

It’s a far better reception than Eddie could have anticipated. His friends were taking the news relatively well. Unlike Wayne’s quiet fury when he’d discovered the truth, none of you seem to hold it against Eddie that he’s been dishonest.

He still feels awful. Shame like a grimy layer on his skin that refuses to be washed away. But it was reassuring the hear that none of you resented him. Even more reassuring that you don’t seem to be treating him any differently now. With the secret no longer weighing him down Eddie can relax. Once the tears have dried and the topic has been sufficiently mulled over it takes no effort at all for the group to slip back into easy conversation. Steve recounts a disastrous first date that will definitely not lead to a second. Robin imitates an annoying customer who complained when her extra hot latte was too hot to drink, her voice high pitched and screechy as she waves her arms dramatically. All the while Eddie laughs, the feeling unfamiliar after so long wallowing in misery. The levity is much needed. He wishes that he could stay in this moment for a while longer, the four of you giggling on Wayne’s couch like the good old days, when you were all just kids and your problems were no bigger than passing Algebra 2.

Eventually though the realities of adult life kick in. Steve yawns, stretching his muscular arms high above his head.

“I should probably get going.” He says.

“I’ve got 9th grade volleyball first thing in the morning and those kids are feral.”

“And I should get going because Steve’s my ride.” Robin smiles.

You all head into the hallway, retrieving heavy winter coats and tugging on boots.

“You coming?” Steve asks.

You shake your head in reply.

“Not yet. I just wanna catch up with Wayne before I go.”

“Okay. See you soon.” Steve says, pulling you in for a quick hug.

“See you in the morning.” Rob smiles.

“I’ll swing by Melvald’s first thing. D’you want a croissant or a bear claw?” You grin.

“Oooh definitely a bear claw.” Rob calls as she heads out the door. Eddie waves them both off then shuts it behind them.

When he turns you’re still standing by the bottom of the staircase, trailing your fingers over the polished oak.

“Wayne’s probably fallen asleep.” Eddie chuckles.

“But I can go get him if you-“

“No it’s okay.” You say quickly.

“I might have told a teeny tiny lie.”

“Which is?”

You shrug your shoulders.

“I can catch up with Wayne anytime. I actually just wanted a moment to talk to you. Alone.”

“Oh. Oh yeah?” Eddie says, feigning as much nonchalance as he can manage. In reality his heart is hammering in his chest.

“Well uh.. shall we go sit back down?”

He watches as you reach into your pocket, retrieving a packet of Camels and a lighter.

“Actually Ed, do you mind if we go outside?”

“When did you start smoking again?” He asks, realising that his disapproving tone is highly hypocritical given his earlier admission. He’s just surprised is all. You kicked the habit back in college, claiming it was a waste of money and you hated the way the smell lingered on your skin.

“I know it’s not great. I don’t do it much, just when I’m stressed out.”

You don’t offer further explanation, just turn and walk down the hall to the kitchen. Eddie grabs his leather jacket and stuffs his feet into a tattered pair of sneakers, not bothering to lace them. He follows you out the back door into the yard.

Snow has begun to fall, starting as a light flurry but now coming down harder. It begins to settle on the lawn, the green turning white beneath a fine blanket. Ludo dashes past you both, running in circles on the lawn, his jaw chomping at the air to catch the flakes as they fall.

Eddie quickly puts up the long unused sun parasol and positions it over the rattan chairs on the patio so you can shelter from the snow.

“What’s got you so stressed?” Eddie asks, clamping the filter of his own cigarette between his teeth.

He watches and waits while you light yours, the sparking lighter illuminating your face for a moment in the dark. You exhale a large cloud on a sigh.

“I’ve been worried about you, duh.” You say with a halfhearted smile.

“I had a feeling something was up. Wayne was so vague whenever I called, just saying you were unwell and you couldn’t speak to me right now. I was starting to think that maybe… I don’t know. Maybe that you’d changed your mind.”

“About what?”

“About us. Being friends again. Things were kind of heavy last time we hung out, and I thought it might have scared you off.”

“Hey.” Eddie says softly.

“Don’t - don’t think like that. I’m glad we’re talking, I really mean that. I’m not about to disappear on you again.”

You nod, still smiling, but it doesn’t meet your eyes.

“I’m serious. Look at me.”

Eddie reaches across the small patio table to take your free hand, his fingers curling around yours that are ice cold. You finally raise your head.

“I’m not going anywhere. And even when I do, when I’m better and I can go home, I won’t walk out of your life again. So long as you’re happy to have me in it I’m gonna be here.”

Eddie’s relieved when your smile becomes more genuine. You twist your palm to face up, interlacing your fingers.

“Thanks Teddy.” You whisper.

“I meant everything I said earlier too. M’here for you. If there’s anything I can do to make life easier for you while you’re recovering then I’ll do it.”

“I know.” Eddie says. Because he does. He knows without a flicker of doubt that you’ll support him. It’s what you’ve always done, been the person that sticks by him through thick and thin. The past few years were a blip, a mistake that can be undone. He’s hopeful that eventually it will be like they never happened at all.

This feels like before. When you’d both sit outside the trailer, chain smoking and just talking. The topic of conversation never really mattered. He was just happy to have you around.

Eddie doesn’t want the moment to end. If he stays out here the spell won’t be broken, but eventually your trembling becomes too much to ignore, and truth be told he’s freezing his ass off too.

“C’mon.” He says, still holding your hand and using it to pull you to your feet.

“We’ll freeze to death out here.”

Back in the kitchen the snow that’s landed on your shoulders begins to melt, soaking into the fabric of your coat. Ludo leaves a trail of wet paw prints on the floor as he pads his way back in. Eddie reluctantly releases your hand. He searches through the cupboards, pushing aside packets of dried pasta and cans of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Hot cocoa?” He asks, waving the tin at you. Your face breaks into a bright grin.

“Got any mini marshmallows?”

“Of course. I’m not an animal.” He laughs.

With two steaming mugs in hand you return to the living room. Eddie sits at one end of the couch, you at the other. Ludo curls up on the ground by your feet.

It’s quiet as you sip your drinks. Eddie watches through the window as the weather outside worsens. The wind has picked up, flurries of snow swirling in the dark sky. It lays thickly on the ground now. An idea forms in his mind. One that he should probably keep to himself, but he can’t resist speaking it aloud.

“It’s really bad out there.”

“Mmm.” You nod.

“S’gonna be a nightmare driving home.”

“The roads will be icy.” He comments.

Over the top of your mug he sees your eyes narrow with a smile.

“Sure.” You say.

“And it’s dark.”

“It is.”

“Seems pretty dangerous to drive home in that.”

You laugh then.

“Teddy, it sounds like you’re about three seconds away from singing Baby It’s Cold Outside.”

“I’m just concerned for your safety, that’s all.” He smiles.

“Well what do you suggest as an alternative?”

Eddie shrugs.

“You could stay.”

He holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable rejection. You’ve always been the sensible one. You’ll be sweet about it, smiling and shaking your head, insisting that you really should leave.

“There’s bound to be talk tomorrow.” You sing softly.

“Think of my lifelong sorrow.” Eddie sings in reply.

You laugh, kicking your foot out across the couch to nudge him.

“You’re so corny. But alright. I’ll stay.”

Eddie sighs with relief. He could pretend that he’s only glad to keep you here because the conditions outside are so bad. But he knows it’s just another lie. He wants you to stay because… well he’s not really sure. It feels comforting to know you’ll be near.

Eddie creeps up the stairs, careful to keep his footsteps light. You follow behind him, the two of you tiptoeing past Wayne’s room where soft snores grumble from behind the door. Eddie shows you to the other guest room, although you know where it is.

“Your executive suite Madame.” He whispers.

“Why thank you kind sir.” You reply as you breeze past him.

“I hope Madame finds everything to her liking. We have the finest Egyptian cotton sheets and a beautiful scenic view.” Eddie grins, gesturing to the faded floral covers and the window that overlooks Wayne’s front yard.

“It certainly is wonderful. Can I expect room service at this fine establishment?”

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly.

“If you wake me up before you go I suppose I could be persuaded to make you a coffee.” He smiles.

“I doubt you’d want me waking you that early.” You tease.

Eddie thinks he wouldn’t mind seeing as it’s you.

“I’m sure I’ll live.” He says.

Eddie grabs a clean pair of sweats and an old shirt for you to sleep in. He lingers in the doorway after you take them, tapping his fingers nervously on the frame.

“Well uh - let me know if you need anything. S-sleep tight.”

“You too Teddy.” You say softly.

————————————💌———————————

With the door closed you undress, slipping into the soft cotton sweatpants and pulling the shirt over your head. Eddie’s aftershave lingers faintly on the collar, mixed with the scent of detergent and softener. You pull the fabric up to your nose, breathing it in deeply, allowing yourself just a moment to bask in it in private.

You tell yourself that it’s for no reason other than to feel close to him, to enjoy this renewed connection between you both. Deep down you know that’s not true. A feeling stirs in your chest, one that you’ve ignored for years.

Your heart had been filled with longing and hope until that fateful evening in New York. Then it was trampled over, left bruised and hardly beating. Eddie might as well have aimed a revolver square at your chest and fired.

But you held your share of the blame. You saw the weapon in his hands. You let him press the barrel to your chest, cold metal kissing your skin. You had trusted that he wouldn’t pull the trigger.

You’d been wrong.

For years you nursed the wound. A gaping hole between your ribs, the surrounding skin charred and smoking. It got better with time but never fully healed. You’d carried the reminder ever since like a scar. Every mention of Eddie’s name, every time you heard his voice on the radio or saw his face on the glossy cover of a magazine, the carefully woven stitches keeping you together were plucked and snapped. Your heart bleeding out all over again for a boy who didn’t care.

As you lay in bed and stare up at the popcorn ceiling you wonder if it will ever be addressed - this elephant in the room. Things with Eddie were good now, better than you could have ever imagined just a few short months ago. Was that enough? Could you continue like this, rebuilding a friendship without ever acknowledging the thing that destroyed it in the first place. Whether or not you could remained to be seen. It wasn’t the time to bring it up. Eddie had enough going on without you picking at old wounds.

The spare bed is comfortable, the mattress plush and the sheets soft and warm. But sleep won’t come to you. You toss and turn, growing increasingly frustrated. Reaching over to the bedside table you pick up your Casio, pressing the button to illuminate the small screen. 12:34.

You’ll have to be up in just a few hours, heading home to change and brush your teeth before you visit Melvald’s and then go to work. You groan, burying your face in the pillow. It’ll be busy with only a couple of weeks left until the holidays. You’re already dreading all the stressed out Christmas shoppers, their snow caked shoes tracking wet dirt across the floors, the way they’ll huff and puff when you tell them that there isn’t enough time to order in that title before the 25th, or how their kids - hyped up on sugar and Christmas spirit - will run amuck in the cafe.

By the time your watch reads 01:10 you give up on sleep. You tentatively step out onto the landing, hoping you can sneak downstairs for a cup of tea and a cigarette without waking anyone. Wayne still snores in his room, a low rumble with the occasional grunt. Beneath Eddie’s bedroom door warm light spills out. Curious, you walk over and press your ear to the door, wondering if he’s still awake or if he’s just fallen asleep with the light on.

“You can come in.” A voice calls softly from inside. You flinch and take a step back, shame making your cheeks hot.

When you peer your head around the door you find a sweet sight.

Eddie is sat upright, pillows stuffed behind his back against the headboard. He holds a book in one hand, the other stroking the top of Ludo’s head, the pup fast asleep beside him. You’re momentarily thrown by the fact that Eddie is shirtless. Swathes of new ink adorns his skin beside the familiar tattoos. The black widow on his chest now sits on a fine web that stretches over his collar bone, an intricately detailed moth spreading its wings across his other pec.

“Can’t sleep either huh?” He whispers.

You shake your head and avert your eyes away from his skin. Stepping inside you close the door quietly behind you.

“What are you reading?” You ask. Eddie holds the paperback up so you can see the cover.

The Twin Towers.

“Of course.” You smile.

“Am I that predictable?” He grins.

“How many times have you read that series now? You know there’s other books right?”

“I lost count after twenty. No one compares to Tolkien sweetheart, you should know that.”

Your belly turns over at the name.

“Nerd.” You tease, hoping Eddie won’t catch the wobble in your voice.

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“You can come read it with me if you want. S’long as it’s not too nerdy for you.”

You silently will the butterflies in your stomach to settle.

“I don’t mind nerdy.” You whisper.

“Scoot over.”

Eddie does as he’s told, moving to the right side of the bed so you can slide in next to him. If he sees the way your hands shake as you pull back the covers then he’s too polite to comment.

You whisper apologies to Ludo, your jostling of the mattress waking him. His tail wags but his eyelids remain droopy, and he’s asleep again in seconds.

Beneath the sheets your bare feet brush Eddie’s leg.

“Jesus H Christ!” He whisper shouts.

“Your toes are like ice!”

“Are they?” You grin, pressing them harder against his calf. Eddie swats at you with the book, but he still pins your feet in place and traps them between his legs.

“Might as well warm them up.” He grumbles, a smile pulling at the edges of his lips.

“I don’t understand how you’re not freezing.” You say, nodding to his exposed torso.

“This guy’s like a hot water bottle.” He grins, patting Ludo’s head.

“Now get comfy, I was just getting to a good bit.”

You shuffle closer and pray that your thumping heartbeat isn’t audible. You rest your head on Eddie’s shoulder, his skin smooth against your cheek.

“Is this okay?” You ask, your voice hardly above a breath.

“Y-yeah. It’s okay.” He says softly.

Eddie clears his throat and shuffles through the pages until he finds his place again.

“Suddenly there was a great shout, and down from the Dike came those who had been driven back into the Deep. There came Gamling the Old, and Eomer son of Eomund, and beside them walked Gimli the dwarf. He had no helm, and about his head was a linen band stained with blood; but his voice was loud and strong.” Eddie whispers.

“‘Forty-two, Master Legolas!’ he cried. ‘Alas! My axe is notched: the forty-second had an iron collar on his neck. How is it with you?’

‘You have passed my score by one,’ answered Legolas.

‘But I do not grudge you the game, so glad am I to see you on your legs!’”

You can’t help but smile. You always loved to listen to Eddie reading aloud, the way his face became so animated, his voice changing for each character.

“‘Welcome, Eomer, sister-son!’ said Théoden. ‘Now that I see you safe, I am glad indeed.’” He continues.

You exhale a pleased sigh, your body warming with Eddie’s so close. Much like the puppy that lays across his lap, your eyelids grow heavy as he continues to read.

“‘Hail, Lord of the Mark!’ said Eomer. ‘The dark night has passed, and day has come again. But the day has brought strange tidings…”

————————————💌———————————

Something cold and wet presses to your cheek. Grumbling in protest at being woken, your bleary eyes blink slowly as they adjust to the daylight that spills through the curtains. Hot breath fans across your face, a lolling pink tongue tickling you when it sweeps across your cheek. You giggle, scratching the excitable pup on the back of his neck as he turns his attention to Eddie, who until now had been sleeping peacefully beside you. Ludo clambers to sit on his chest, whining when he doesn’t immediately wake to make a fuss of him.

“Jesus Ludo.” Eddie groans.

“You’re crushing me.”

Eddie sits up and pushes the dog aside.

“Does he always wake you up like that?” You say through a yawn.

“Pretty much.” He chuckles.

Eddie’s hair has turned into a frizzy nest in the night, errant curls sticking up at all angles. He rakes his fingers through the mess, shooting you a shy grin.

“How bad is it? Scale of one to ten.” He asks.

“Hmmm. I give it a six.”

A knock has both of your heads snapping to the door. Ludo jumps down from the bed, whining and scratching at the wood in hopes of escape.

It opens before either of you can say a word. Wayne pokes his head in, smiling when Ludo scurries out. He looks up, his calm expression replaced with one of horror when his eyes meet yours.

“Oh! Jesus Christ, uh.. sorry about that.” He stammers, clamping his hand over his eyes.

“Wayne, what are you covering your eyes for?” Eddie asks.

“I wasn’t expecting to see a young lady in your bed of course!”

“For shit’s sake, she’s dressed.” Eddie hisses, his cheeks turning scarlet. You feel your own grow heated, wishing that the ground would swallow you up.

“Oh, right well that’s good. I mean, it’s none of my business really what you kids get up to, but-“

“Wayne. Please, I’m begging you to stop talking.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going. I only came in to let the dog out so he could go potty. But I was gonna put some bacon on too. You wanna stay for breakfast darlin’?”

“Um, thanks Wayne but I have work this morning so I don’t know if I have time…” You say, looking over to Eddie’s bedside table and catching sight of his alarm clock.

“Shit! It’s 8:55?” You exclaim, throwing yourself out of the bed. You squeeze past Wayne and run to the spare room that you were supposed to sleep in.

“What time does the store open?” Eddie calls.

“9!” You shout back, your arms getting tangled in the sweater that you desperately tug on.

Fully dressed you’re about to run straight down the stairs to go, when you realise that you should probably at least say goodbye. You peck a quick kiss to Wayne’s cheek and give Eddie a wave.

“Sorry I’m running off like this.”

“S’fine.” Eddie smiles.

“Just drive safe okay?”

“I will. See you!”

As you hurry out the front door, a thick layer of snow crunching beneath your feet you pray that Robin won’t be too pissed that you’re late and you didn’t get her breakfast.

Wayne leans in the doorway giving Eddie an amused look.

“What?” The younger man grumbles.

“Nothin’. Just didn’t expect her to stay over that’s all.”

“It was snowing pretty bad last night, so it seemed safer than her driving in the dark. That’s all.”

Wayne shrugs.

“Eddie you don’t have to make excuses. I don’t care, you’re both grown adults. Just as long as you’re both being - ahem - sensible about things and-“

Eddie cuts his Uncle off by throwing a pillow square at his face.

“Please stop. We slept. That’s it.”

“Alright, I believe ya.” Wayne says, his tone suggesting that he absolutely doesn’t. By his feet Ludo whines louder now.

“I’m gonna take the boy out so he doesn’t pee on the carpet. Breakfast’ll be ready in twenty.”

Eddie throws himself back with a groan.

The space beside him is still warm, the pillows baring the faintest hint of your perfume. He silently prays that his Uncle will let this go, not getting the wrong idea and reading too much into things. But maybe Eddie is the one who needs to get his head straight. Because he has to admit that it was nice to have you here last night. The way you’d fallen asleep so quickly with your head resting on his shoulder, your body curled up against his when he finally discarded the book and turned off the light. He’d slept well himself, better than he can recall for a while, with his arm thrown over your waist and your face tucked against his chest. Every quiet breath you exhaled had soothed him. The softness of your skin making his heart beat just a little harder.

Yeah. Eddie definitely needed to let that go.