And All I Loved, I Loved Alone—Then I Found Tumblr

You found yourself wistfully staring out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man you were missing. You would catch the occasional glimpse of him stepping out to smoke, but never much more than that. Until Wednesday. 

You watched Steve’s car pull up to the trailer across the street, and part of your heart left with it after you watched Eddie get in the passenger seat. 

You should have been glad that he was still making an effort to get out there, should have been proud that he was working so hard. But you allowed the selfish voice in the back of your head to win, and chose to close your blinds so you wouldn’t be tempted to see him again. 

Time passed, but you were unsure of how long it had been. You lost track of the amount of times you had called home, unsure if you were hitting the daily quota or overshooting. You lost track of the amount of times Steve had come to your door, with or without a friend in tow. You had never answered anyway. 

The closest you had gotten to understanding how long it had been was when your manager called you again to ask when you would be coming back. Though he was less caring this time, much closer to the personality you were used to, he still agreed to give you another week off. 

You considered quitting. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to go back there. The fear of it happening again was intense, but what was worse was the ache in your heart knowing that it was no longer worth it.

Steve began to worry around day 3 of you not answering the door. The sound of your TV playing inside mixed with the fact that your car hadn’t seemed to move since he had dropped it off just assured him that you were going down an all too familiar road. By day 5 you had shuttered the windows, adding sunlight to the list of things you were depriving yourself of. 

You were second on the list of friends that Steve had taken it upon himself to buy groceries for. He held onto a lot of guilt from his late teens, guilt over things you would never believe if he were to tell you. And while neither you or Eddie’s fates were part of that long list, he still felt he could let just a little part of it go by being of help. And he figured it was a good use of the line of credit his dad had opened for him after he had graduated. 

He left a few non-perishables on your doorstep on Tuesday afternoon after knocking for a few minutes with no answer. When he dropped by to pick up Eddie the next day, at Eddie’s request, it was still there. He checked back for the next two days and tried to knock on the door again, but you still never answered. 

He considered using the spare key you had lent him. Each passing day, as the concern festered, he grew closer to breaking and entering. Deep down, he knew that it wouldn’t help. He knew that if any unwelcome guest were to step through that door, it had to be Eddie. Not only because he was the only person you’d want to see, which was only a suspicion on Steve’s part, but it was because he knew that Eddie had to be the one to help you just as you had helped him. 

When Steve would usually drop off groceries to Eddie, someone else would tag along. More often than not it was Dustin, the same boy who had spent weeks travelling to and from the hospital with Steve to reassure himself that Eddie was still breathing. He suspected they both still needed the reassurance, even long after he had been discharged. This week, Steve showed up alone. 

Eddie noticed the lack of sidekick the second he opened the door, but didn’t think much of it at first. It wasn’t until he realized that Steve had brought double the groceries, and saw the guilty smile, that he realized. 

“Don’t even ask, I’m not going over there.” 

“I didn’t even say anything,” Steve tried to defend. 

“So you’re not about to try to get me to bring half of these bags over to y/n?”

In lieu of a reply, Steve scrunched his face in preparation and slid the spare key across the counter towards Eddie. 

“Absolutely not.”

“Eddie, please-”

“No! I already told you I’m not talking to her anymore. It’s better for everyone.” 

“Everyone? Because it sure as hell doesn’t seem too great for her. She won’t answer the phone or her front door, and I don’t think she’s left her trailer since she talked to you.” 

“Doesn’t matter. Depressed is better than dead.” 

Eddie shut down the conversation by beginning to put his groceries away, but Steve had nothing more to say anyway. He couldn’t believe how callous Eddie was being, and he wasn’t having it. 

“Fine, be like that. But if you don’t get over yourself and go over there, she’s just gonna starve to death.” 

“Steve just go drop them off, it’s not that hard.” 

“It is actually. I tried already and she didn’t come to the door. I left some on her doorstep and they’re still sitting out there.” 

“So why don’t you use the key you just left on my counter?”

Steve considered explaining for a second, but he knew that no matter what he said, Eddie would have another excuse. This wasn’t a fight he could win. So instead, he left. 

“Bye Eddie,” he gave the other boy a harsh smile and walked out the door. Eddie called after him, even followed him out the door. But Steve was faster, and he had already put his car in reverse before Eddie could fully process the circumstance Steve had left him in. 

He let out a heavy frustrated sigh before heading back inside. He slammed his cupboards as he put his groceries away. If Wayne were there he would have complained that Eddie was going to break the hinges. 

He sat in his living room in complete silence for two hours. He tried to come up with another plan, some other way to keep the promise he had made to himself. He considered calling Robin, Nancy, Dustin or literally anyone else who would answer the phone. He knew Steve had probably beat him to the punch though. He considered knocking and leaving it on your doorstep, but if you hadn’t grabbed what Steve had left you, there was a slim chance you’d do it this time. 

Sure, he was worried sick about you. He was terrified that he had already ruined your life by putting you through whatever had happened that night. He worried that you shutting Steve out was just the beginning of the end. But he couldn’t convince himself that going over there would do either of you any good. 

He finally got off of the couch when he realized that the sun had gone down and not a single light had come on in your trailer. The thought of you sitting alone in the dark, shutting out the rest of the world, broke his heart more than he was able to deal with. 

He gathered the bags from his counter in one hand, and grabbed the spare key in the other. He had to take mental note of his breathing as he walked over, trying to convince himself that this was still a bad idea. Part of him had been craving seeing you again, but he hadn’t let it get very loud. He had been trying to gaslight himself into believing that he could be fine never seeing you again, never hearing your voice or being the reason you smile. 

He had to take a deep breath before he knocked, fist hovering in front of the door as he tried to gather a nonchalant composure. Four knocks sounded, then a pause. It was silent inside, not so much as a scurry towards the window to see who was at the door. Another four knocks, a little louder this time. Nothing. 

He checked over his shoulder to make sure your car had truly been there the entire time, that you weren’t just out of the house. Sure enough, it was parked exactly where Steve had left it over a week ago. Leaves had gathered on the hood and around the tires, piles not quite as large as the ones around Eddie’s van, but they were getting close to competing. 

Four more knocks, this time as hard as his fist would allow before injury. He sighed when there was no response. Using the key without your permission felt like a violation of trust or privacy or both. But he didn’t have another option, and he was finally beginning to admit to himself that he was concerned for you. 

He clumsily unlocked and opened the door, trying to juggle the heavy grocery bags between hands to get it open. 

“Don’t shoot, it’s just me,” He called out, wincing at how stupid he sounded. Even if you knew who was entering your home, he was probably pretty low on the list of people you would want it to be. 

His stomach sank when there was no response. No annoyed voice telling him to go away. No getting out of bed to scold him for disturbing your sleep. Nothing. 

“Y/n?” He called out again to the dark and seemingly empty trailer. The echo off of the walls felt like adding insult to injury. He stepped inside and tried to look around, but it was pitch black. He did his best to feel his way to your kitchen counter and set down the groceries, before he felt along the walls to turn on the light. 

He finally let out a sigh of relief when the room lit up, revealing your sleeping body on the couch. You were covered with a couple blankets, hair lightly matted and on full display with your face nearly smushed against the back rest. He called your name one more time, a bit louder now that the front door was closed and it felt like no one else could hear him. You didn’t so much as stir. His instinct to stay away from you was superseded by the new fear that your unresponsiveness was causing.

“Y/n,” he pleaded as he kneeled down to shake you. When you didn’t move, he felt that his own life was flashing before his eyes. He suddenly felt like an idiot for fighting Steve on coming over here. He tried again, more urgent this time, calling your name and guiding your shoulder back so your face would turn to him. 

Finally, you left out a soft moan. If the room hadn’t been completely silent he may have missed it, but he had been desperately searching for any sign of life. 

“Hey, come on, wake up,” he shook you one more time before gently tapping your cheeks. They were burning up. 

“Go away Steve,” you groaned quietly, trying to turn back away from him to face the couch again. Your eyes never opened. 

“Not Steve. Turn back to me Sweetheart.” He gently guided you to lay on your back, and rested a wrist on your forehead. “Jesus Christ, you’re burning up.” 

“Eddie?” Your eyes finally cracked open, squinting in an attempt to adjust to the light that you couldn’t remember turning on. 

“Yeah, I’m here,” he hated the awkward tension that he had created, but you didn’t seem to be feeling it at all. In fact, you seemed to barely be aware of anything at all.

“I don’t feel good,” you whined, squeezing your eyes shut again to hide from the light and the splitting headache it was giving you. He could hear the hoarseness of your voice this time. 

He hated to admit that he was relieved. You may have been miserable, but for a second he had felt the fear that he would have turned your body over just to realize it was lifeless. Anything was better than that. 

“You have a pretty high fever. Have you taken anything for it?” 

You only groaned in response. He tried to stir you awake again, but you just groaned louder. He took it upon himself to check your medicine cabinets in search of tylenol, and possibly a thermometer. He returned to wake you again after he had successfully found both and filled a cup of water for you. 

“Open your mouth,” he instructed, hovering over you in wait. He had to be sure your fever wasn’t high enough to need to go to the ER. 

“‘M not hungry,” you mumbled, face pressed firmly against the arm rest of the couch. 

“No, come on,” he chuckled as he guided your chin towards him and placed the thermometer under your tongue. He had to keep an eye on you to make sure you didn’t try to swallow it. 

“102,” he sighed as he took the probe from your mouth, “You gotta take some pills for me, Ok?” 

You moaned in reply yet again, but he wasn’t going to relent. He helped you sit up and guided you to take a drink to swallow the pills he had found for you. “How about we get you to bed?” 

You nodded with a little pout, and it nearly melted his heart. He considered just scooping you up to carry you to your bedroom, but the narrow hallway was just asking for a harsh bonk to your head. He helped you to your feet, wrapped your blanket around your shoulders, and led you down the hall. You collapsed into the bed the second it was in front of you, and he let out an audible laugh. 

“Ok, no, come on,” he took the blanket from you despite your weak protest. He then brought the comforter to lay properly over you, and made sure your head was laying on a pillow. He guided your chin to look at him one last time, pleading with you to open your eyes for just a moment. 

“I’m going to stay on the couch ok? And I’m going to have Steve bring you a few things. If you need anything you just yell or come right out there. Ok?” 

You smiled at him and nodded, but quickly turned your head and fell right back asleep. 

Eddie made his way back out to your living room and towards your phone. He knew he was owed an earful from Steve. All that effort avoiding you just to have him staying on your couch nursing you back to health. But he promised himself that the second you were better, he was going to go right back to keeping his distance. 

“Hey, it’s me,” Eddie sighed when Steve finally answered the phone. 

“Calling me isn’t going to change my mind. You better go over there, Munson.” 

“Yeah, actually that's the thing. I’m over here right now and she’s sicker than a dog. I took her temperature and it’s just over 102, and she's like barely able to form a sentence. Any chance you could bring her some like Nyquil, tissues, soup, that kind of shit?” 

“Yeah,” he could hear Steve’s shit eating grin even through the phone, “You still going to be over there in like an hour? I’ll just drop by.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be here. But I just wanna make it clear, Steve, I’m only staying here because she’s knocking on death’s door. The second she’s feeling better, she’s your responsibility again.” 

“Whatever, Munson. See you in an hour.” 

Eddie waited in your trailer for a full hour, anxiety only rising as Steve's appearance grew nearer. He was worried he would knock too loud and wake you. As he was actively trying to listen for Steve’s car so he could beat him to the door, he heard you shuffle out of bed. He turned his attention towards your bedroom for a second, just in time to see you run into the bathroom. Eddie didn’t consider himself squeamish, but the sounds of you violently vomiting nearly had him doing the same. Though his stomach had already been in knots before you woke. 

He rushed to the bathroom after you, quick to grab your hair and clear it from your face. You didn’t look back at who was there beside you, just let the reassuring strokes of his hand on your back do all the talking. You let out a little broken sob between heaves and Eddie had to steel himself to not gather you up in his arms. 

“It’s ok, sweetheart,” he whispered as he guided you to sit back against the cold tile of your bath. You were barely dry heaving now. “Stay here.” 

He grabbed a clean hand towel and rushed to run it under cold water. He turned back to you and rested the damp cloth over your forehead. 

“Feeling any better?” 

You were back to moaning in response, still evidently miserable. Before Eddie could try to rouse a single word from you, the knock he had been expecting sounded at the front door. 

“Stay right here, ok?” He waited a second for you to acknowledge him, thumb mindlessly wiping a few drops of water that had made their way down your temples. You continued to not recognize that he had even spoken, so he stepped out of the room to let Steve in. 

Steve could both hear and see the distress pouring out of Eddie. In any other circumstance he would do his best to reassure him, but this time he tried not to smile. He gained amusement from seeing Eddie so worried about you despite his insistence that you were better off without him, and he supposed he deserved it after what he was putting you through. 

“I’m going to go help her back to bed, you can just leave that all on the counter.” 

“Sure you don’t want me to do it?” Steve tried to hide his devious smirk. 

“Oh, sure,” Eddie’s brow furrowed only for a second, unable to come up with an excuse to be the one to help you.

Steve tried not to laugh as he left Eddie to be the one to pull your groceries out of the bag. His smile only fell when his eyes landed on you, curled into yourself and barely holding yourself upright against the tub. 

“Hey,” he kneeled down and grabbed your hands from your sides, “Lets get you up.” 

You didn’t respond, but you followed his guiding movements and stood. He did his best to keep you upright as you made your way back to the bed. He tucked you in, a little more haphazardly than Eddie had, but you were still out before he left the room. 

“Damn, you were right,” Steve sounded nearly as stressed as Eddie now, “She really is on her deathbed in there.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie paused, not knowing how to address the elephant in the room. This wasn’t the first time he had insisted you stay away from each other, especially to Steve. He was starting to feel like the boy who cried wolf. He hated to admit that he himself was starting to lose faith that he was capable of staying away. But how much you mattered to him, how much he cared about your wellbeing, that was exactly why you needed the distance. 

“When’s the last time you slept?” Steve asked, entering the kitchen to finish putting away groceries with Eddie. You were going to have a field day reorganizing your cupboards when you felt better. 

“I’m fine.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“Why does it matter?” Eddie shot around to face Steve, tired of being on the receiving end of his criticism. 

“I’m just trying to check in on you. You look exhausted.”

“Yeah well I just had to listen to her puke her guts out and I kind of thought she was dead when I walked in, so excuse me for being a little stressed.” 

“Ok, Jesus.” 

“You should go.”

“Eddie-”

“No, Harrington. I… I just need to know she’s ok. I know I’m being selfish and I know I’m a fucking idiot. I don’t need to hear it from anyone else,” Eddie nearly exploded, but he was still able to keep his voice to a minimum to avoid waking you. 

“I never said you were an idiot.” 

“Yeah, well you didn’t have to,” he sighed in defeat. He walked back to the living room and slumped onto the couch, too ashamed to return Steve’s burning gaze.. 

“I just don’t get why you’re doing this to yourself. Sure, I disagree with your entire thought process here, but if you’re going to insist on not being around her, why are you here?”

“Like I said, I just need to make sure she’s ok.” 

“You haven’t had any problem with making that my responsibility so far. So why is it yours now?” 

He knew the answer, he just needed Eddie to admit it to himself.  

“I don’t know. Maybe I should just go,” he groaned and rubbed a stressed hand down his face. 

“That’s not the answer anyone is looking for. I know she wants you here, and you sure as Hell wanna be here too. I just don’t understand why you can’t just let it happen.” 

“And I don’t know how else to explain it.” 

“Fine, whatever. I’ve had a long day, I’m going home. Just… make sure she doesn’t like aspirate in her sleep or whatever.”

“Is that something I actually need to worry about?” Eddie’s eyes shot up to him, but Steve didn’t reply. 

He sat on your couch for half an hour in complete silence yet again. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with himself. He considered turning on the television for some much needed distraction, but he worried the noise would disturb you. After another twenty minutes of sanitizing surfaces in your living room and rummaging around in search of a spare blanket, he finally gave in. He lowered the volume as much as he could while still keeping it audible, knowing full well there was no way he was going to be able to sleep in the silence. He was already going to be struggling with being in a foreign room, especially knowing that someone else was just down the hall. 

He stared at the ceiling with the lights shut off, trying to convince himself he was safe. It wasn’t this hard to fall asleep last time. It had nearly been an accident, with you on the other end of the couch, curled up with your feet nearly touching his. It had been one of the first times that he had felt that safe around another person since he had become the Devil of Hawkins. How he felt now was a stark contrast. 

He was too caught up in thinking about that night to hear you stir awake. You found the blanket that had been wrapped around you earlier that day, discarded at the foot of the bed, and swaddled yourself in it again. You heard the TV in the living room, and couldn’t remember having turned it on, but your memory had been foggy for a day or two. 

The second you had felt the tickle in your throat, you knew this would happen. Sure enough, by the next day, the fever had already begun to set in. You called home to let your mother know you were ill, she understood how scatterbrained you were about to become. You were grateful to be temporarily relieved of your duty to report back home, even considered faking this more often just to have a few days of normalcy. 

Your head felt like it had been bashed into a wall, your sinuses were barely open, and your throat felt raw. The rest of your body was afflicted by a dull ache, barely noticeable in moments and hard to ignore in others. You made a mental note that you needed to check your medicine cabinet for some pills, unsure if you had restocked before last week. 

The last thing you were expecting was the figure on your couch. You let out a gravelly scream, which only made your throat burn worse, but you weren’t focused on the pain. You shot a hand out to turn the light on, hoping that this was just another cruel trick from your imagination. What you weren’t expecting was Eddie, sitting up on his forearms, wide eyed. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, giving you a confused once over. 

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” You didn’t sound mad, just confused, maybe a little bit concerned. “I told you I would be out here,” he furrowed his brow, thinking back to the way your hazy eyes had acknowledged him before drifting off to sleep. 

“What? No you absolutely did not.” 

“Yeah, I did. Right after I helped you to bed. Not long before you puked your guts out in the bathroom.” 

You tried to think back. You didn’t remember getting into bed, the only foggy memory of the day was puking. You remembered how it burned your already raw throat. But you couldn’t remember anyone else being there, you were barely there. 

“Sorry, I don’t remember,” you sniffled, discomfort suddenly hitting you like a bus again, “I get like that when I have a fever sometimes.” 

“Amnesic?” 

“Little bit,” you shrugged, trying to avoid looking in his direction. You couldn’t even begin to imagine why he was there. One of the last things you did remember was being heartbroken over him no longer wanting to be near you. 

In your effort to avoid him, you noticed all the items still resting on your counter. “What are those?” 

“Groceries from Steve. He brought some extra stuff to help you feel better.” 

“Did he happen to bring anything that will make this headache go away?” 

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t take any. I gave you some not that long ago, you aren’t due for more for like another,” he drew out the syllable as he craned his neck to check the clock in your kitchen, “2 hours. Sorry.” 

“Sorry, I don’t remember taking it.” 

“You know, you gotta be careful with that stuff. Might be over the counter, but you can still overdose on that shit.” 

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” there was a pregnant pause in conversation as he stared at you with sad knowing eyes, “Eddie, what are you doing here?” 

He sighed, unsure of what he was supposed to say. “You wouldn’t answer the door for Steve, so he thought I’d have better luck I guess.” 

“And why have you set up camp on my couch?”

“I wanted to make sure you were ok. You weren’t exactly coherent when I got here.” 

“I thought you weren’t going to come around anymore.” 

He didn’t think your voice could hold any more discomfort, didn’t think it had the capacity to sound any more strained. But that sentence sounded like you were speaking around shards, tearing you apart from the inside out. If he hadn’t already been consumed by guilt, that would have got him. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He looked like a kicked puppy. It wasn’t fair how much your heart wanted you to cross the room to comfort him. 

“How did you even get in? I’ve checked the lock on that door maybe 100 times this week.” 

He reached into his pocket and shamefully pulled out the spare key to present to you. You rolled your eyes and finally crossed the room, just to snatch it out of his hand.

“I’ll take that back.” 

“I’m sorry. We were just really worried about you.” 

“Ok,” that was all you had the energy to say. Fighting was hard for you to do on a good day. All of the things you’d like to say would get caught in your throat and replaced by a polite little statement tied up all pretty in a bow. No one could properly tell you were angry until you hit an exploding point. You felt yourself nearing it, but the ache in your bones wouldn’t let you combust. 

Eddie found no solace in your quiet discomfort. He was used to the explosion. Not just with words, but with throwing objects and fists. Passive aggression was a foreign concept to him, and it felt worse than any physical damage you could have dealt him. 

“Do you want me to leave?” He was hesitant to ask, unsure if he should even give you the option. 

“Kind of,” you answered quickly, standing near the front door now. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him again, to see the surprise written plainly on his face. The last thing he had expected was for you to exile him so easily. 

“Oh… Yeah ok. I’m sorry,” he quickly got off the couch, “Uhm, there’s a bunch of groceries in the fridge and in your cupboards. I left all the stuff you’d probably need right away on the counter though.” 

“I’ve got it, Eddie.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? Just to make sure you stay on schedule with your medicine?” 

“I think I can handle it.”

You sounded cold, calloused, and he hated it. He had done this to himself, he should have felt relieved that you seemed to be fine without him. But as much as he would insist that this was what he wanted, it was never what he truly desired.

“Just… Will you please just let Steve keep an eye on you?”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” 

“Right,” he smiled nervously, “You do need community though. Locking yourself away like this isn’t going to do you any good.” 

“Look who’s talking.” 

“Y/n-”

“No, Eddie, I’m tired of you preaching to me how I need to handle myself when you can’t seem to do the same. I really don’t need the advice from someone who apparently no longer has any interest in being in my life anyway.”

He stood in shock for a moment, not used to hearing your tone so mean. He understood your anger, and he felt he deserved it, but it was just a shock to hear anything but your sweet voice leave your lips. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll stay out of your hair from now on.” 

The second he walked through the front door, you both paused on opposite sides. You couldn’t help the loud sob from escaping you, it had been clawing its way up your throat for the entire conversation, begging to be known. Eddie could hear it from his place on your doorstep. He considered turning around, bursting through the door to apologize and hold you. He wanted to take back everything he had said, everything he had done.

Leaving your trailer, he knew one thing. He had to decide if he had been wrong the whole time.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I had a lot of shit going on and really needed the break! 3 parts left after this and I am hoping to keep to the weekly schedule again!

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