moony

That is until Eddie's walking along the train tracks at night, mumbling angry nonsense about out of town drug deals and how life must hate him specifically to cause his van to break down too and suddenly, there's weird growling in the woods.

Then rustling and growling, then some sort of not-a-dog and growling, then a face that blooms into rows of teeth and Eddie starts running, but he keeps looking back and ends up bowling down a group of terrified children.

Eddie's on his feet in an instant, yelling and screaming, trying to get up and get them up and explain the horror behind him all at the same time while he can hear the not-dog gaining, gaining, gaining.

He spins around right in time to watch Steve fucking Harrington step in front of him and the kids both, swinging a bat against the not-dog's head.

(Somewhere in the part of his brain not liquefied by fear, Eddie registers that the bat has nails in it.)

Steve hits the not-dog's head a few more times before looking up.

They lock eyes, just like they have a hundred times before, only this time, this weird little encounter, he breaks their silence and says;

"Don’t tell me you’re out here trying to catch monsters too."

Which is a wildly hysterical series of words to come out of King Steve's mouth.

Unfortunately Eddie is hyperventilating too hard to make that point, and one of the children seems to clock his weird breathing because they look at him, then look at Steve and loudly go "Uhhh..."

And Steve--rolls his fucking eyes of course he does, the jerk, but he swings the bat effortlessly in one hand and reaches out to grab Eddie’s with the other.

Then they're holding hands and walking (well, more like Eddie's getting towed) out of the woods, Steve casually filling him in as they go, and he doesn't know it yet, but this sets a precedent in his mind.

Steve Harrington is now his designated emotional support jock.

Apparently, somehow, Steve is cool with this, because from here on out, whenever Eddie freaks, flinches, or considers screaming into the void, his immediate response is to death-grip that very same hand, and Steve never once shakes him off.

Doesn't even acknowledge that it keeps happening, but does start just...holding it out, like he's offering a cig, the second shit starts to go sideways.

(Steve, who keeps rolling his eyes about it, but is also never the first to let go.

"Yeah but they said that every other-"

"The label is ready to drop you."

"What?" Eddie screeches and climbs up off the floor. He's shirtless and sweaty, his hair half sicking up half sticking to his sweat. "They can't do that."

"They can. They will. The lawyers are already involved, Gareth's ready to walk away."

Eddie feels like he's just been slapped. Punched. Like he fell maybe, like that moment when you're nearly asleep but your body jolts you awake, a half remembered dream that you just tripped and went head first off the stage. "You're lying-" Chrissy doesn't lie, "Gareth. The guys, none of them would-" but he sees it now, sees it through unfortunately sober eyes. See's it in the look on Chrissy's face. Can look back at the half remembered drugged up haze of all the shit Eddie's gotten up to over the last two years. All the times he didn't show. All the times he pulled bullshit. All the times he staggered into practice, late and drunk. All the times he turned up high. All the times his therapist has made him talk through his mistakes, to own them, to be truthful with himself about his problems.

Eddie can't have a drink. He can't smoke anything or inject anything or shove anything up his nose. He has to deal with it. He has to see it. There's a mirror next to Chrissy, big and ornate, and overdone, just like everything else in the room. Drug addict Eddie decorated this room, black and red and gilt. Arrogant vampire chic. Eddie thought it was cool. Four months of rehab and therapy and he's come back to a bedroom he fucking hates. The godamn carpet is black; who even buys black carpet? The top of the dresser is a mirror; easier for the coke.

Eddie should have torn it all out already.

He stares at himself in the mirror. He doesn't even remember getting some of the tattoos he has. He's too thin, bony, sick looking. His skin is flush pink with rut and there's a wet patch where the head of his cock hangs heavy. Chrissy does not give a shit.

"Eddie, honey. They all would. They all will. This is what I've been telling you. They are done. One more slip, and that's it. Rehab said absolutely no emotional entanglements while you're vulnerable-"

"I am not fucking vulnerable-"

"Nothing at all that could undermine your progress. No Omega's Eddie, I mean it. No drugs. No rut suppressors, no hormones, no nothing. Eddie I have been through this place with a fine tooth comb, I swear to god there's not so much as a Tylenol in this whole building."

"But what if I get a headache?" Eddie asks, suddenly feeling pathetic and weak as a kitten.

"Steve will get you an ice pack."

Eddie blinks, "who the fuck is Steve?"

"He's here to help you through your rut-"

"You said no Omega-"

"He isn't. He's a Beta, and he's the best there is at this. He will feed you, he will nest with you, anything you need, he will get it for you, he will look after you, he will let you scent him until your rut is done-"

"But-"

"Beta scent is calming!" Chrissy talks over Eddie, "this is not a sex thing, you need to rub one out do not do it in front of Steve. Do not piss him off, do not push his boundaries, am I clear? The center highly recommended him for this, okay?"

Eddie rankles with irritation, with displeasure.

Chrissy's nose crinkles at the scent, "look, I chose Steve to reduce the risk okay, male Beta is about the safest person you can be with right now. You have been clean for nearly five months Eddie, please. I am begging you, not for me, for you, you will hate yourself for the rest of your life if you fuck this up again. And actually also for me because watching them rush you into intensive care I-" She stops, looks at the floor, "for me Eddie- I cannot watch you go through something like that again, okay? I am asking you as your friend, please."

The OD was stupid; but Eddie had it in his head he was immortal at the time. "Okay Chris. Okay."

"Good. Thank you. I...won't hug you right now though."

Eddie looks down at the tent he's pitching in his sweats, "that's fair."

Chrissy opens the bedroom door and leaves, there's a man standing there. Eddie's preference isn't men, and Chrissy knows that. Hell, Eddie would take an Alpha over a Beta, and Chrissy knows that too.

Eddie takes a deep breath. The voice of his therapist mutters something about judging people by their desirability. They've talked a lot about Eddie judging people; can this person provide drink, drugs, or a fuck? No? Then what's the point of them.

It's a hard thing to change, when that's been your worldview for years. Even so, Eddie cannot see the point of this man; so he shuts the door in his face.

Steve sits up with a huff and frowns at the person.

A guy with medium length curly hair and doe eyes stares back at him with a big smile that screams chaos.

"Sorry, dude," Steve says, "Bedroom is off limits. Go hookup, smoke, or whatever somewhere else."

Instead of leaving, the guy closes the door behind him and locks it.

Steve scoots back on the bed, hand reaching back to wrap around the nail bat he leaves behind his nightstand.

The dude raises his hands in mock surrender, silver rings glinting in the light streaming in from Steve's window - blinds open enough so he can make sure no one does anything weird in his pool. "Listen, man, I'm not here to hurt you or anything. Although you might hurt me when you hear why I'm here."

There's something about his voice that sounds familiar to Steve when it suddenly hits him - all the yelling and stomping around on tabletops. "You're Eddie Munson."

Eddie smiles and bows dramatically. "Guilty as charged."

Steve's frown deepens, and for a fleeting moment he thinks Dustin would really like the guy. "So, why would I hurt you if I hear you out?"

"Because, Steve," Eddie draws out his name as if it has a deeper meaning, "I was downstairs thinking about what a wonderful year I've had, and I decided that I might as well start the year with a little chaos."

Steve's grip tightens around the bat in case he's some sort of satanic serial killer or something, although his gut tells him that he shouldn't be scared of the man. "What do you mean by chaos?"

There's a strange glint in Eddie's eye when he shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on the feet as if he wants to move closer to Steve but has decided to plant himself by his door. "I mean... I came to this party to sell my supply and after my whole lunchbox was cleaned out, I started thinking about who I should kiss at midnight. Or more precisely, who would be the worse option, or rather, the option that would bring the most-"

"Chaos. Yeah, I got that part," Steve cuts him off.

Eddie's smile changes to something genuine for a moment as he comments, "Wow, Steve Harrington is actually listening to me."

Steve rolls his eyes, grip loosening on the bat. "I'd rather you not stand on my desk to get my attention." To Steve's surprise, Eddie actually laughs in response and pulls a strand of hair in front of his face to hide his smile. And to Steve's much greater surprise, his heart starts beating a little faster and he finds it harder to not smile back at him. "So, chaos?" Steve prompts.

"Right," Eddie says, rocking on his feet again, "Chaos." He ducks his head for a moment as if hyping himself up for the next thing he's going to say, which is when Steve entirely releases his grip on the bat, realizing that Eddie is more scared of him. "So, I thought, to start the year off with the most chaos, I would choose someone to kiss that would bring the most chaos. And I thought, why not the host of this party?"

Steve frowns. "Tommy's downstairs."

Eddie mirrors his frown. "You're not hosting?"

"Why would I be in my room if I'm hosting?"

"Why would the party be in your house if you're not hosting?"

It suddenly hits Steve. "Wait, you want to kiss me?"

Eddie takes a step back, hovering even closer to the door than he was before. "Consensually, of course."

It takes a moment for Steve to fully process what is being asked. "You think I'm the worst option to kiss?"

"That's what you're asking?" Eddie asks, trailing off to mutter something like, "The fragile ego of athletes, I swear."

"I got dumped this year. Of course my ego is low."

Eddie smiles bashfully. "Sorry, my uncle always tells me I'm not as quiet as I think I am." And there's something about Eddie's cheeks that are slightly flushed, the strand of hair he starts tugging at again, and the way he can't stop bouncing as if he's buzzing with energy and nerves that makes him so...

"Yes," Steve blurts out suddenly. For a moment, he wonders if the mindf- mind fly? mind... whatever evil thing from a few weeks ago has possessed him.

"Yes what?" Eddie asks sounding genuinely confused. As Steve stands up to look out his blinds and shut them, Eddie rambles, "Yes, I'm not as quiet as I think I am? Or yes, you're about to punch me, and I'm going to finally figure out how it felt when you got your face bashed in a few weeks ago?"

Steve rolls his eyes before holding up both of his hands, mimicking Eddie's pose when he first came into the room. "Yes, I'll kiss you."

It's as if Eddie has forgotten he's asked the question the way his jaw drops, and he stares at Steve like he's said the most confusing thing he's ever heard. Which... to be fair... is highly likely.

"You want to kiss me?"

Steve takes a small step closer to Eddie. "I want to give you your chaos."' When Eddie doesn't look convinced, Steve takes a step closer to him, hand running through his hair as he continues, "Who knows, maybe it'll give me good luck or something for next year by cancelling out the chaos from this year."

Eddie nods. "Okay. You're giving me your chaos. Yeah. That makes sense."

"And you're taking my chaos away," Steve agrees, trying to tell himself that this is a rational decision. "This makes sense."

"You're not going to beat me up?" Eddie asks, risking a small step away from the door.

Steve shakes his head. "Seems like a bad way to start the year, don't you think?"

Eddie nods as Steve steps closer to him, slowly, as if not to startle him away. "You know, I thought just asking you would be chaotic enough as is and then I could run away and pretend you hallucinated or something when you tried to beat me up."

"Should've asked Hargrove then," Steve says, cocking his head to the side. "Does that mean you don't actually want to kiss me?"

Eddie swallows and shakes his head. "I didn't say that."

Just as Steve gets in front of Eddie, he hears people downstairs counting down from ten. "Good," Steve says, "Because there isn't enough time to find someone else."

Eddie scoffs, the countdown now at eight, "That's not true for you."

"Maybe, but I'm not really looking to find anyone else right now. Are you?" Five.

Eddie smiles and takes a step forward. "No." Three.

Steve reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind Eddie's ear. "Good." One.

Steve's not really sure who moves first or if they move together, but the yells of, "Happy New Year" are drowned out as Eddie's lips meet his in a kiss that feels more desperate than Steve expected. He's not sure why they're kissing as if the countdown was for the end of the world, but he really doesn't care.

It's only when Steve's gets a little carried away, Eddie's back slams against Steve's door with a thud that's loud enough to alert anyone that something's happening in Steve's room, that Steve breaks away with a gasp, seeking the air Eddie's stolen from him. He wonders if - hopes - it's the chaos he's taken.

"Happy New Year," Steve whispers, hands cupping Eddie's face while Eddie's are tangled in the mess he's made of Steve's hair. He's not sure when either of those things happened.

"Happy fucking New Year, Steve," Eddie mutters, hands slowly dropping from his hair.

Steve's hands hold onto Eddie's face a little tighter for a moment, and he sees the moment a bit of fear sparks in Eddie's eyes. Steve quickly shakes his head. "No, I'm not about to beat you up. It's just... I kind of slammed you against the door a little hard there, and if someone else is up here and they see you..."

"Chaos," Eddie fills in with a nod, "And not the good kind."

"Yeah," Steve sighs, "Not the good kind." He glances to his window where the blinds are firmly shut - thank you Jonathan for teaching him that lesson - and down at the locked doorknob before looking back at Eddie. He glances at his lips momentarily before blurting out, "Stay with me."

Eddie's jaw drops, mouth opening slightly in shock.

Steve steps back, hands reluctantly leaving Eddie's face. "Stay until everyone clears out at least. No ulterior motive."

Eddie shoves his hands into his pockets and moves back into Steve's space. "What if I want there to be an ulterior motive?" He tilts his head down and gives Steve a case of lethal puppy dog eyes. "Fully take your chaos away, remember?"

Steve is absolutely sure that this in no way will take away the chaos of his previous year and will likely only invite questions, confusion, and further chaos into 1985.

"Yeah, I remember," Steve says, pulling Eddie into another desperate kiss.

Maybe Eddie was onto something about starting the year with a little chaos. And maybe 1985 will be his year.

Eddie’s making up excuses, he’s aware of that. He’s making up excuses, because he’s afraid that he’s not going to be enough if he stops and takes a while to be just himself. Chrissy says he’s a lot to handle – not in a mean way, but in an a lot way. Mostly, she’s right—usually, Eddie would say the same thing about himself.

But he really wants this thing with Steve to work. It’s true, they’ve been getting to know each other only for a short period of time, but it feels like—

He looks down at the counter. Some time ago, Steve stopped giving him post-its with his order altogether. Now, they’re just post-its with silly, wonky drawings scattered all over them. Eddie saves each and every one, but his personal favorite is taped permanently to the side of the cash register. It’s a redraw of the first drabble he drew on Steve’s cup all those weeks ago – the thing that was supposed to be a dragon, but came out as some kind of ugly snake. Steve’s version is captioned “ROAR”. Eddie’s heart sinks a little lower every time he looks at it.

He shakes his head. “I just don’t want to screw it with him, you know? I feel—I dunno, maybe we—”

She squeezes his left shoulder twice, firmly. You’re gonna be okay, it says. It’s their universal sign of being there for each other. Eddie was the one who came up with it when the times were darker, their lives lonelier and the struggles greater. Now that they’re dividing them in two, they don’t seem so big.

Chrissy smiles. “You’re not gonna know until you try, Ed. I’m not saying you have to, I don’t know, propose or something, but asking him out could be a good start. You could be good for each other, really good.”

This time, he simply hopes that she really is right. He punches the machine once again, just for good measure. Chrissy groans.

“They won’t be able to fix it at all if you beat it to pulp!”

***

After another two weeks, Eddie can shamefully admit that he still hasn’t made a move.

He tried. Multiple times, in his opinion, but it never really worked—either because Steve’s really, really oblivious, or because he doesn’t want to go out with him.

There’s also the third – Chrissy’s – option: Eddie’s simply not clear enough. He chickens out time after time and that’s why it doesn’t work. He’s self-sabotaging himself. It’s a truth that makes the blood in his veins boil, but it most probably is the best explanation.

Well, it’s not like he’s going to be able to do anything about it now. He has his annual fishing trip with Wayne planned and he’s going away tomorrow. It’s only for a few (excruciatingly painful, because he hates the sole concept of fishing; however, he’ll do everything for his old man) days, but the whole Steve business will be pretty much out of the picture.

It’s entirely in the picture now, though.

Eddie’s on closing duties. It’s been a long day. When Steve came in to get his coffee and supposedly check on Eddie, the look on his face gave him away immediately.

“Get me out of here and I’ll pay you in diamonds,” the note he passed to Steve said.

“Diamonds? Why not in nature?” he retorted. Eddie was half glad that Steve couldn’t have heard his sputtering—although he definitely smirked, all smug, having seen how wide Eddie’s eyes went.

But Steve doesn’t really seem like he’s himself today either. It looks like something’s bugging him, if it’s fair to judge from the way he’s shielding his eyes from the light, yawning frequently or having to take a break from reading his notes every now and then. Eddie asked him a few times if he wanted to go home, but Steve just kept replying that he’ll wait for Eddie to finish his shift. It’s sweet, really; it’s also worrying, because Steve’s not as sneaky as he thinks he is. Eddie definitely saw him take a pill at some point.

Fortunately, he’s almost done. When his coworker, Brenda (who’s been eyeing Steve for a suspiciously long time this evening), declares that she’ll close the shop, Eddie sighs a breath of relief. With his bag slinging from his shoulder, he crosses the cafe and taps the table Steve’s sitting at a few times to get his attention.

Then, he thinks that he’ll never get sick of the view of Steve’s face. When Eddie reaches his cheesiest moments, he has a hard time believing that Steve’s even real, because he doesn’t feel real. He feels like a gift, with his kindness and patience and little quirks that he has, like doing a mom pose whenever he notices that Robin is making fun of him, even though he’s not really mad. They all make him a whole person, and a person that’s so fascinating, so warm and good-natured, Eddie feels ashamed knowing that he will never be able to give it all back.

Steve signs and after thinking for a few seconds, Eddie remembers what it means. “Ready to go?” he’s asking.

Eddie’s attempts to learn ASL seem to be going quite well. He can only sign a few things himself, and it’s mostly useless in day-to-day life (he takes flirting seriously, thank you very much), but he understands more. He has a long, long road ahead, but Steve and his friends are so happy to help him it doesn’t seem as hard now. He’s planning on roping Chrissy into learning it too.

He nods and helps Steve with his stuff, getting yet another confirmation that something’s not exactly right with him. Steve shakes his arm off a few times before he gets a good grip on the door handle while they’re leaving, which makes Eddie frown. He picks up his phone.

“Are you alright?” he asks, showing it to Steve, who squints when he takes the phone. The first thing he does is lowering the brightness to minimum.

“Yeah, just feeling a little funny. It’s nothing. Can I walk with you?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. Apparently, walking together is another one of their things. Eddie’s crappy apartment is close enough to the cafe they started this little tradition of walking there together whenever he has a closing shift. Eddie’s been meaning to invite Steve in—that’s the thing he’s seemingly not clear enough about in Chrissy’s opinion.

Either way, Steve always asks if he can walk with Eddie. As if Eddie had any psychological or physical ability to say no to him, ever.

“Of course you can. Although I’m starting to second-guess your ability to execute your judgment atm. It really looks like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“But I’m telling you that it’s nothing, at least nothing I’m not familiar with.”

Eddie pouts, staring at his phone. He’s not sure whether he should press more or leave it, trusting that Steve would tell him if something really wasn’t right. “Well, fine then,” he writes. He fights the urge to bite his nails, mulling over the thing he wants to say next. “But you’re not going home in this state by yourself, so you’re either: a) getting a cab (expensive, not ecological, smells funny), b) calling someone (may end up in people standing you up), or c) coming upstairs to wait for it to pass (no drawbacks, I’m amazing).”

When he passes the phone to Steve, he’s not there. Eddie almost drops his phone, staring at where Steve was supposed to be in shock. They were walking together, weren’t they? Eddie didn’t make it up, right?

Then, he hears retching. Eddie’s head snaps in the direction of the sound. What he sees next baffles him only for a few seconds.

Behind him, Steve’s bending over a trash can in what looks like a truly painful heaving fit. Strands of hair stick to his sweaty forehead and cheeks, tears stream from his eyes. The hem of Steve’s scarf is dangerously close to falling into the trash can, and that’s the thing that finally sets Eddie in motion.

“Shit, Stevie,” he says, more for his own comfort than Steve’s. For a moment, he lets his hand hover over Steve’s in the hope that it would be enough to warn him that Eddie’s near. He gathers the scarf in his free hand and removes it from the way.

While Steve’s starting another fit, Eddie starts to panic. He knew something wasn’t right. Instantly, dozens of pictures of Steve on operating tables cross his stupid mind.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—Uh, okay, Steve?”

He waits for an answer. Then he remembers and curses himself that his ASL level is so damn low. Steve coughs and coughs, and his hair is getting so close to his mouth Eddie decides to just reach out and sweep it back, thinking that Steve can hate him for touching it later.

When it looks like Steve’s done and starting to recover, Eddie takes out his phone.

“Should I call 911?”

It takes a while before Steve registers the screen—when he does, he has to shut his eyes. He shakes his head, which sends him into another coughing fit. Without thinking, Eddie smooths his hair once more, trying to think on his feet.

“Will you be able to walk some more?”

A nod. Eddie pockets his phone as soon as he can, seeing how just the tiniest bit of light makes Steve twitch and struggle. It takes him another minute or two to recover this time. When he’s finally able to straighten up, he leans on Eddie heavily.

The rest of the walk to his place is slow and careful. Eddie has to lead Steve straight to the bathroom in complete darkness—and it would be funny, really, because Steve’s the one who’s unwell, but Eddie’s the one who almost trips twice in his own tiny apartment, if he wasn’t scared half to death at the moment. He didn’t think this through. Steve can be having a life threatening condition for all he knows. As soon as Steve’s out of his coat and winter attire, bending over the toilet in the dark bathroom, Eddie stands by the open door and chooses Chrissy’s number.

“Ed I swear if you’re calling to whine how useless you are with—”

“Steve’s here,” he cuts her off, chewing on his nail.

“What? It’s good then, why do you sound like someone’s dying?”

Eddie closes his eyes. He’s not superstitious—hell, who’s he even kidding, he is. He’d rather not hear this word in this context. “He’s puking his guts out. He said he’s been feeling funny and we were walking, and then suddenly he started throwing up and—”

“Eddie, calm down. Did you call Robin?”

He takes a big breath. He’s so stupid. “I don’t have her number. Or her socials. Fuck. I’m pretty sure his phone is locked. Shit—what do I do now?”

An awfully loud groan comes from the bathroom. “This doesn’t sound good,” Chrissy says. “Okay, listen. I’ll find her, you take care of him. Don’t panic!”

Eddie manages a whine, but Chrissy’s not there to hear it.

In the bathroom, Steve’s slouching over the toilet, but it seems like he’s done. His breathing is heavy and ragged. In the dim light Eddie turned on in the corridor, he looks like he’s already half-dead, with his pale cheeks and sweat glistening on his face. Eddie runs a rag under cold water and crouches beside Steve. He taps his shoulder lightly.

Steve doesn’t even open his eyes, he just lets Eddie do anything he sees fit. Eddie gives his chin a gentle tug and starts wiping the sweat off his face. Eddie’s heart clenches. Whatever it is that’s happening to Steve, it’s tearing him apart and Eddie wishes he could have prevented it, anyhow.

Steve has to sign twice for Eddie to even register it. He's not sure whether it’s bed or bedroom, but he figures that it must mean that Steve wants to lay down.

“Shit, I’m sorry, sweetheart—Why am I even saying it, you can’t even see my lips now.”

He gives Steve a slight tug. When he obeys, Eddie feels the weight of responsibility. Steve trusts him completely, maybe even with his life for all Eddie knows, and the best he can do is wipe the sweat off Steve’s face and give him a place to sleep it off. It doesn’t feel like much, but when he closes the blinds and covers Steve with a blanket, Steve reaches out for his hand and squeezes it lightly.

Eddie squeezes back. He hopes it’ll be alright.

He’s in the kitchen when his phone pings.

“robin says he’s having a migraine”

“she asks if he had his meds, threw up (already told her that he has) and/or went to sleep”

“if you can answer yes to all of the above, he should be alright”

Thanks to whatever eternal being that rules this universe for Chrissy Cunningham. And Robin Buckley.

***

Eddie doesn’t get too much sleep that night. Firstly, because his ratty old sofa has more bedsprings than plush. Secondly, because he keeps coming back to his bedroom door to check whether Steve’s still breathing or not.

He’s eating cereal and reading some random book when a piece of paper drops down next to his hand.

“Hi. Can I take a shower?”

Eddie looks up so quickly he almost cracks his neck. Steve looks like he’s been through hell, but he’s smiling gently. Eddie can’t help himself and grins.

“Hi,” he says, so incredibly relieved he feels like he’s ten tons lighter. He grabs the nearest pen and replies to Steve’s question. He knows that Steve can lip read quite well, but it’s exhausting for him to keep his attention on the task for too long. Eddie can’t imagine how painful it would be now.

“Of course. I think I have a spare toothbrush in the cabinet. I’ll leave a towel and some spare clothes for you.”

Steve reads the reply and smiles again, tired and small, but seemingly content. He points to the corridor; Eddie nods.

He leaves his comfiest clothes outside the bathroom. Soft sweatpants and his favorite Judas Priest hoodie.

When Steve comes back and flops down on the sofa next to Eddie, his hair is wet, flat and smelling of Eddie’s coconut shampoo. He looks better already, as if washing down the remnants of last night was enough to get him going. With a bottle of water he took from the fridge, Eddie passes him a note and a pen.

“Would you like to eat something?”

Steve thinks for a second. “Not yet. Thanks for the water.”

Eddie smiles in response. It’s quiet for a while; Eddie’s reading his book, Steve’s drinking his water and reading over Eddie’s shoulder. It doesn’t feel weird or forced at all, though. It feels cozy and safe. Outside, the snow is falling again.

Eddie doesn't even notice that Steve is writing something again until he pushes his note over the book.

“Thank you. For taking care of me. I should have told you before. I'm used to taking care of myself by myself.”

He frowns. It genuinely confuses him for a second. “Don’t worry about it. I would have done it either way, even if you’d told me. Why should you be left alone when you’re unwell?”

Steve’s face expression turns from sad to sour in a blink. He looks at Eddie for a second, worrying at his lip and clearly choosing carefully what to say next. It takes him a long while to write down everything, and once again Eddie wishes he knew ASL already. He’s trying not to peek, but it’s hard to look at Steve’s solemn face and ignore it.

The note is hefty; it’s more of a letter than a note to be honest.

“I’m going to tell you a lot of things now, and I really don’t want you to freak out or riot. Just read and try not to think too hard about it, okay?

“In the past, I’ve had several concussions and head traumas. At first, it seemed like everything was alright, no severe damage, nothing to worry about. Then I started losing hearing in my left ear. It was gradual, so I didn’t understand what was going on until I could barely hear anything. My parents took me to some audiologist and he told us that hearing aids were my best option.

“Soon after – another head trauma. Doctors said it was really bad luck to have the same outcomes from two separate injuries to both sides of the brain, that I was unique. Hearing in my right ear went away suddenly.

“I was lost and confused. Adjusting wasn’t going well and my parents had a hard time accepting the process. To be honest, they were just assholes. They had a problem with ‘babysitting’ me. Long story short, we fought and they kicked me out. And without any insurance, I didn’t have a chance to start rehabilitation and get proper medical care. My ability to speak didn’t last.

“It’s better now. I have people who care for me, I’m staying afloat. I still have some hearing left, but I’ve adjusted to this new reality and I really don’t feel ready to change it now with proper aids or a cochlear. And as you have already noticed, my concussions left me with some other health problems too.

“I’m not saying this because I want you to feel sorry for me. The point is, Eddie, I care about you. And the fact that you didn’t ditch me yesterday means a lot to me.”

Eddie wants to say so many things after reading the note. He has at least twenty questions lined up. He wants to say how insanely unfair it is that Steve had to go through all this, that his parents should, frankly, burn in hell. How soul-shattering the fact that Steve expects people to leave him is.

Instead, he looks Steve in the eyes, trying to say everything he’s not allowed to say at the moment. He squeezes Steve’s knee before he writes the reply.

“I don’t know why you’d even think that I could possibly leave you. You were sick, Steve. I don’t do that to people.”

Steve scoffs, but not unkindly, and shuts his eyes for a second. He gives Eddie a sad smile.

“Exactly. You don’t do that to people. But I’ve had people do that to me. Last time something like that happened, my date dropped me off at the nearest ER and blocked me everywhere the next day.

“Today, I woke up woozy and confused, but somehow I still knew that I was safe. I knew you were somewhere around and it wasn’t so scary. You make me feel like I’m going to be fine, Eddie. Believe me when I say that it is big for me, even if you think it’s just basic human decency.”

Steve’s words are imprinted under Eddie’s eyelids. He closes his eyes, but he still sees them.

He sees them, and they make him feel a certain way. They make him feel like he is going to be alright, too. To him, they look an awful lot like a promise—a promise he wants to keep forever.

The reply he writes is well-thought and consists only of words that seem to be the most important.

“Then we can care for each other. We can be fine together.”

Steve’s whole face melts. Seeing how heavy his eyelids get, how relaxed he seems to be, Eddie starts to worry that he’s going to fall asleep on the spot. He has half a mind to nudge Steve with his elbow when he starts nodding frantically and a grin spreads over his lips.

For a second, Eddie isn’t sure if it means what he thinks it means. Then Steve leans in and rests his temple on Eddie’s shoulder, and suddenly, the air between them gets a different flow. As if they were sitting together, but in two separate bubbles, and now there’s only one. As if they had two similar, but at the same time entirely different perspectives, and now there’s only one. As if they’re going to be two separate parts of one from now on.

Steve’s breath is warm and minty. Eddie knows, because he can feel it on his hand when he reaches up to caress his cheek. He knows, because Steve looks up and his lips part, and his breath is warm and minty so close to Eddie’s lips the line between them disappears.

Eddie doesn’t know which one of them destroys the line permanently, but he knows that when they kiss, he finally knows how it truly feels to be fine.