#aspeaks

Steve startles slightly at Dustin's sudden outburst. It's been quiet in the car for the past fifteen minutes, and Steve is no longer used to the way Dustin suddenly rockets into conversations.

"Jesus, dude. You can't do that when I'm driving. And no I'm not. I'm acting completely normal," Steve says, glancing over at Dustin. He's staring intently at Steve, calculating.

"Yes you are. You're weirdly happy," Dustin says.

"What? I'm always happy. I can't smile because I get to see my little brother?" Steve demands. Dustin narrows his eyes as his hands shift awkwardly on the steering wheel.

"Nice try. Now spit it out, what's her name?"

Steve clears his throat and readjusts in his seat, eyes firmly on the road.

"There's no girl, Henderson," he insists. Dustin huffs at him and slumps in his seat. Steve really thought the dramatics would stop after high school, but it seems to be ingrained into him. Not that Steve has much room to talk, really, but Dustin is on another level.

He's come by, a couple times, since it all happened. He's explained to him what really happened, as best he could, and it seems like Wayne believes him. It was the least he could do. To tell him the truth, that Eddie really was a hero.

It's painful and healing in equal measure. Every time Wayne opens the door and smiles at Dustin, ushers him in, it twists and pulls at his guts.

The old trailer, and most of it's contents, were destroyed. But Wayne salvaged what he could, and there's bits and pieces of Eddie scattered about. Like he might have visited recently, dumped a handful of stuff from his pockets, and then promptly forgot about it.

There's a jacket of his hanging on a hook, pieces of school work scavenged from the wreckage that have been pinned to the fridge. Dustin knows that Wayne still doesn't sleep in the one bedroom the trailer has. Still confines himself to the couch.

Dustin had slept in that untouched room, once. Angry and prickly and post-fight with his mom, who was just so worried and breathing down his neck. When Wayne opened the door that night, it was extra painful. Walking into a room that should have been Eddie's and seeing nothing but a mangled guitar was near agony.

"What are you doing here, kid? Shouldn't you be partying?" Wayne says. Dustin shrugs.

"Eh. I'll get to that. Wanted to tell you about my speech, first," Dustin says.

Dustin told Wayne, once, about that day in the cafeteria. Finally my year. Wayne had shook his head and laughed, made fun of Eddie and insisted that Eddie wouldn't dare, not my boy, not in front of me. That boy would get the grounding of a lifetime. Dustin had laughed, too. Had argued that no, really, he promised he would! I think he would've! And they'd both gotten quiet, because they'd never find out, would they?

But then Dustin was Valedictorian, and there's was really only ever one thing he wanted to say.

They sit on the couch as Dustin does his most dramatic retelling of events. Wayne laughs and rolls his eyes at all the right places, tries to look disappointed but Dustin can tell he's still smiling.

"What's your mom think of this?" He asks. Dustin beams at him.

"She said it was great!" Dustin says. Wayne huffs a laugh and looks away. He takes a shaky breath in.

"He woulda thought it was great, too. You know that, right? He woulda loved it, kid," Wayne says when he finally turns back to Dustin.

Dustin's eyes are burning, but he smiles through it.