#cpstd

TW: Angst, internalised homophobia, homophobia, child abuse, a lot of slurs, hurt/comfort (THERE WILL BE COMFORT)

Steve doesn't see Eddie for a week. He hears from Jeff that he's alive, and he knows from Wayne that he's alright. Because even after everything, Steve still cared.

He can't just turn it off, love.

Even when it hurt him. Seemed to be his stupidest skill. Steve Harrington's expertise - loving people in a way that hurt them and himself.

He couldn't just burn away feelings, not when he still saw that smile in his dreams, or the heat of Eddie's shoulder or that smoky purr in his ear.

He'd gone over the time they'd been together over and over and over again. Like he's playing a tape in his mind, like he's an investigator, to find the signs of where he went so wrong.

Maybe it was wrong to kiss Eddie like he did, but it wasn't out of nowhere.

It wasn't like they hadn't spent the whole night fooling around cooking dinner in the kitchen, then eating it in the dim light of Steve's dining room. It wasn't like they hadn't fallen asleep on his bed and then woken up to get breakfast at the diner, singing all Steve's favourite Abba songs badly.

It wasn't as if Eddie hadn't looked him in the eye, held his fucking hand and said "I love you, Steve," in that clearing.

It wasn't -

"Steve you gotta eat something kay? Your biceps are cryign to me," Robin's voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

"Mmm yeah, later maybe, he says as he hefts a box of cleaning stuff out of the cupboard. He can hear Robin behind him, shuffling on her feet, he can feel the way she's holding herself back. Like she wants to snipe at him but won't because she doesn't want to upset him.

Which is so unlike her.

They'd already spent two nights on the roof of his house, talking endlessly about everything and anything and Steve had no more tears to shed for it.

"I just think that maybe, maybe you should follow me to college,"

"Don't I have to go to college to do that,"

"Steve,"

"What Bobby?"

"There are family videos everywhere, I can get you a job at another one. We could get a shitty place in the city and we could explore the world outside Hawkins together you know? See how it's like somewhere else instead of this shitty town,"

Robin reaches for his wrist and Steve recoils just the slightest, a habit from the time Billy had beat his face in and the subsequent punches he'd taken. It was reflex at this point but it never failed to make her face the saddest.

"We could even find more people like us. More places that LIKE us,"

Steve closed his eyes.

It wasn't that he minded the idea. He'd love it. would love to see the world with Robin. Already hates that she's going away, where he can't follow. But he doesn't want to leave the kids. Doesn't want to leave them to a town like Hawkins with no one to look out for them.

"I…

But he also doesn't know how he's going to stay here and see Eddie everyday.

See a love that didn't just call him bullshit drunk. One that he can still feel in his nose, his ears still ringing from the shock.

"I want to but I don't know Rob," he says finally.

She opens her mouth.

But the doorbell interrupts them both.

"Are you expecting anyone?"

"No?"

They both go to the front, side by side.

When Steve opens the door, it's not a stranger that stands there. It's a familiar set of curls.

"Steve. I. Look. I… I don't know how to do this. I've thought about it in half a million different ways, but I can't think of the right way to apologise and so I think it's just best if you punch me,"

"Eddie?" Steve's still unsure if he's hallucinating, because Eddie looks like he's been thrown in a rock tumbler. He looks gaunt and scared and there are bags under his eyes.

"Punch me, Steve, It's only fair."

"I'm not going to -

"I am."

THUD

"ROBIN!"

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Short one cause I'm a demon HAHAHA

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The less you disassociate, the worse you'll feel.

Because you'll actually be feeling. Not just observing the feeling through a fog or reinforced aquarium glass. You'll feel the betrayal, shame, heartbreak, sorrow, and longing.

It fucking sucks.

Every time I feel an emotion strong enough to knock me on my ass, a part of me cries out to reject it and thrust it aside again.

But I force myself to hold myself through the waves. Because feelings are medicine. Feelings are teachers. Releasing the feelings teaches my body that I can let the trauma go. It happened a long time ago. We're safe now.

And we won't feel bad forever. No matter how excruciating the despair, it is temporary.

And I get to feel good, too. Really good. Not mildly pleased or faintly amused. I get to feel joyous, delighted, thrilled, ecstatic, elated, enraptured, euphoric, enchanted...

And so I keep practicing feeling things myself, rather than re-assigning them to a compartment within.

You couldn't have done anything to make it so that your trauma didn't happen. You couldn't have been "better."

You did not deserve to be abused, no matter what they said to you.

You do not deserve to be in pain. You didn't deserve to be hurt, you did not deserve pain.

You are not less worthy of love, affection or anyone's effort because of anything that happened to you.

Being affected by it isn't a moral failing. Having feelings isn't a moral failing.