#deaf!steve

Initiative: After by glasscoffin

(2/2 I 1,596 I Teen)

After the bats, after the Upside Down, and after being the town's most wanted, Eddie Munson is left with a lot of silence and a body full of scars. Sitting by the dark waters of Lovers' Lake, he's forced to wonder if there's a version of him that exists outside of being a "freak" or a "hero."

But Steve Harrington has a habit of showing up exactly when the silence gets too loud. From a quiet, smoke-filled night of contemplation to the electric, chaotic adrenaline of graduation night, Eddie realizes that while he doesn't have a stat block for the future, he's finally done running. As it turns out, the "after" is a lot less lonely when you've got a co-pilot in the passenger seat.

come lie with me and let silence treat us kindly by flowercrowngods

(1/1 I 3,603 I Teen)

Eddie learns that sometimes Steve will just lie down on the floor and simply exist while the world around him continues. The Party know that, call it "floor time", and generally leave him be until Steve is ready to be back. Eddie doesn't mind, because it offers him even more opportunities to just look at him. To watch him.

That is, until Eddie himself is in dire need of just lying down and letting the floor work its apparent magic. It's a good thing, he finds, that Steve understands him without as many words and is very ready to just take care of him. Eddie might be a little bit in love, actually.

Or: In which they lie on the floor and take care of each other, falling in love somewhere along the way between music and silence.

Seems to Satisfy by peevee

(1/1 I 5,348 I Explicit)

“I can’t like… get hard. At all. Since, uhhh -” he trailed off awkwardly.

There was silence, for a second. Steve’s fingers dug into his thighs.

“You… what?” said Eddie, finally.

i'll kiss your mouth, and you'll be better for it by cpressmn

(1/1 I 8,250 I Mature)

“Why didn’t either of you tell us you were dating?”

He looks so hurt and indignant in the way only Dustin can, and maybe it’s not too late to run out after Steve and make their case for the beers again if it means the kid’ll stop frowning and looking at Eddie like that. It takes a minute for his words to sink in.

Eddie blinks. “What.”

“What do you mean, what? You kissed!”

“No, we didn’t,” Eddie scoffs.

Except, yes, they did. Realization crashes over him, the force of it stunning him into silence.

Steve kissed him. On the lips. Like it was nothing, like it was something they did every day.

And Eddie hadn’t even blinked or shoved him away or registered it at all, just returned the kiss and went right back to bossing Steve around, as if the whole fucking thing was the most natural thing in the world.

Fuck.

i follow where my mind goes by anonymous

(1/1 I 17,077 I Teen)

After a moment of this - Eddie, looking, touching, and Steve, melting into an embarrassed puddle - Eddie jerks upwards, abruptly breaking the weird tension (that he didn't even seem aware of) and tumbling off of the bed. He lands on the floor in a pile of limbs with a solid thump. Steve's too baffled to be concerned, and even if he wasn't, this is pretty par for the course for Eddie. It'd be weirder if he went ten minutes without doing something physical and dramatic.

"You good in there?" Robin calls from the room adjacent.

Steve snorts, and he sees Eddie crack a smile against the carpet, breaking character for a moment. "Yeah, Eddie just died."

There's a beat of silence on Robin's end, and then: "Again?"

And Eddie starts cackling.

When everyone survives and the world is no longer ending, there's not much to do but get to know each other.

what doesn't kill you (makes you wish you were dead) by sourw0lfs

(16/16 I 58,999 I Mature)

Silence stretches out in from of Steve as he stares, trying to quell thoughts of why there’s a seemingly hollowed out metal box at the bottom of the lake. None of his thoughts are connecting anywhere solid when there’s another clang through the water, but this time it’s not Steve making it. It’s coming from inside the box and fuck, he realizes with a startled shout, bubbles escaping to the surface from the breath he’s holding in his lungs. It’s an impossibility, but… He hits the box again, tapping a pattern into the metal and waiting even if he knows he needs to surface again soon. There’s an answer in the same pattern.

SOS.

The only Morse code Eddie Munson knows.

OR: The one in which Eddie gets trapped at the bottom of Lover's Lake for two years following Vecna and the aftermath.

songs that voices never share by hairstevington

(21/21 I 70,286 I Not Rated)

Everything's felt a little off since the Fourth of July, and no one's talking about it. Of course, one part of Steve's summer is a bit hard to ignore - he's losing his hearing. As luck would have it, a friend of Dustin's ends up playing a key role in Steve's adjustment to his new normal.

Something Lost, Something Found by novemberthorne

(12/12 I 93,416 I Explicit)

"I'm…" Steve starts, like he's actually about to tell him.

Oh God. He's about to tell him.

Eddie's staring, and Steve sees how his hand is searching the seat behind himself for the remote, probably to kill the movie, because Steve's being so weird it's making him worried.

He sighs again, breath trembling from stress and he buries his face in his hands. Leg still bouncing in place.

The TV gets turned off and the room fills with silence, and he hears Eddie shuffling around next to him.

"Steve—"

don’t get him wrong, steve would love nothing more than to show his support to his friend by going to his concerts and dancing along to the music. but that’s the problem.

he can’t dance to the music.

because he can’t even hear it.

after the mass amount of head trauma he’s suffered in recent years, steve’s already not so perfect hearing just got worse. first his left ear was ringing, just a pitched whistle in the back of his head. then it got louder. kept getting louder until all he heard from his left ear was this stupid. fucking. whistle. steve could no longer hear someone speaking to him if he wasn’t directly facing them, preferably angled a little bit to the right.

and of course, because he has just the best luck in the world, it’s around this time that his right ear started quietly whistling in the background. it too got so loud until another solid knock in the head, in just the right spot, left everything muffled. no more ringing at least, but now it just sounds like he’s underwater with ear plugs at all times. did he ever take it to a doctor? of course not, doctors have needles and needles give you drugs and drugs make you pass out and passing out lets guards drag you down a hallway and-

and of course he didn’t mention it to the party. except robin, who is an extension of steve himself. they have enough going on and quite frankly, he doesn’t want them to look at him like that. like they pity him. like he’s different now. or worse, like he’s lying. because king steve the hair harrington? deaf? as if. it even sounded ridiculous to himself.

so he keeps picking up late shifts at family video every tuesday, friday, and saturday night. a ready excuse why he can’t go. something he can prove. an alibi. and eddie keeps asking him. keeps looking at him with these big, hopeful eyes and this stupid smile, and steve keeps saying no. eddie’s shoulders will sag and he’ll deflate, pouting and whining out a “you said that last time”. and steve will fluster and look down at whatever his hands decided to keep busy with, seem like he didn’t have the time for the conversation.

“i have to work, eddie. you know that.” he feels a puff of air on his face and looks up.

“-but i guess it’s whatever, yeah?” eddie was talking to him. he’s got his hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket, leaning back on foot and looking at steve like he’s bored, like steve is hurting him and he keeps hurting him and he’s tired of it. and steve realizes it’s not just the look, he is hurting eddie. and eddie is tired of it.

steve has no clue what eddie was saying. he’s standing there with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. he’s panicked, he’s lost. it must show on his face. eddie huffs out a breath and shakes his head, the leather on the bottom of his combat boots squeaking as he spins on the floor. he walks out the door, throwing up a peace sign without looking back. and then he’s off.

robin is next to him in an instant, knocking over the tapes on the “Employee Recommendations” table. she’s leaning in front of him, staring at him like he’s insane.

“what the hell was that?!”

“i don’t- i don’t know.” steve’s hands are shaking. Robin takes a hold of them, squeezing them tightly in her own to provide some grounding pressure.

I’m honestly pretty excited about this one… I wrote most of it a while ago and haven’t touched it in over a month but still! 😂

We’ll figure this out. Eddie’s note reads, and Steve’s suddenly, viscerally aware of how grateful he is that Eddie is his friend. He manages a wobbly-lipped nod, and Eddie squeezes his hand as he bends over to write again. Are you hurting?

Steve shakes his head, because how does he explain that he is, but only because his life as he knew it was over?

Somehow Eddie manages to read that on his face, because he’s pulling Steve’s hand up to brush a kiss over the knuckles as he pulls Steve into a hug, and suddenly Steve’s sobbing, great heaving breaths that he can’t hear, even though he knows he’s probably being loud.

Steve goes to metal concerts because he likes the vibrations. He’s able to get a backstage pass to one of Billy’s concerts and meets and interacts with him in person.

Billy is immediately smitten. But he’s not sure if he should pursue Steve, because he’s a fan. Things start off casual, Steve continues to go to his concerts, and they continue to gravitate towards each other.

So, I’ve broken my eardrums several times and that causes temporary hearing loss, so I based what Steve experiences on that as well as some stuff I read written by folks that lost their hearing.

I also wanna rec this fic, which has a similar idea, but Steve begins the story hard of hearing, so I tried to make them different!

Read on Ao3

-

Billy doesn’t know what happened when the kids drugged him and left him there.

All he knows is that he was startled awake by the sounds of Maxine driving his own car and the kids fucking screaming.

Something about Harrington being bitten?

And they dragged Steve out of his car, and he was bloody, and unconscious, and had a big gash in the back of his head.

Billy helped them bring him to the couch, using Steve’s jacket to pillow his head, trying to staunch the bleeding from the wound there.

“Why the fuck didn’t you take him to the hospital?”

Everyone was quiet as Steve groaned, shifting slightly.

His eyes fluttered open.

They were hazy and unfocused, looking slowly around the room.

“Hey, buddy. How are ya feeling?” Steve stared blankly at Dustin.

“I, what?”

Steve felt like he was underwater.

The world was moving too slowly around him, everything was hazy and muffled and he didn’t know which way was up, which part of his body hurt more.

He barely remembers being in those tunnels, the ‘dogs rushing them, getting tossed against the cave wall.

And then, nothing.

Nothing but blue eyes and rough hands.

And Dustin asked him something, but he was too far away, or maybe he was being quiet for once in his life, but Steve just heard ay-u are-a ee.

And then Billy said something, and Steve could pick up osital before Billy was picking him up like he weighed nothing and putting him back in that car.

And Steve could sort of make out the sound of the engine through his underwater brain.

But it didn’t sound anything like it did that first day when Billy roared into the high school parking lot, didn’t even sound like when Max was driving earlier.

And Billy fucking knew something was wrong.

Every time he spoke, Steve didn’t acknowledge him. And he would chalk it up to Steve just fucking hating him, but he figured he’d get some kind of response, even if it was just a glare.

He took him to the emergency room, helping him out of the car.

“My friend hit his head. He’s bleeding and he’s really spaced out.”

-

Steve let the nurses and the doctors examine him.

He felt like he was only going deeper under water.

“I’m sorry, I can’t, I can’t hear you.”

He couldn’t even hear his own voice.

The nurse’s smile slid right off her face.

And then there was another doctor, and he was wheeled into a new room, and had to lay very still in a large cream colored tube.

-

“Harrington?”

Billy hadn’t been allowed to accompany Steve back. No familial relation, and all that.

But he was getting regular updates as they performed new tests.

Last he heard, Steve was being taken for a scan, which Billy didn’t like the sound of.

“Our imaging has presented us with the cause of his loss of hearing. It appears that-”

“Sorry, loss of hearing?” And it made sense, it really did, but it also sent a fucking chill down Billy’s spine. Moreso than the unexplained animal bite that was oozing blood and puss from Steve’s leg.

“Yes, it appears Mr. Harrington has suffered a severe enough concussion we have classified it as a traumatic brain injury. Due to the location of the blow, his auditory processing has been affected. We believe he has lost approximately 90% of his hearing.”

“But this is like, just temporary, right? He’ll be fine?”

“It’s rare to lose hearing due to damage to the brainstem, so unfortunately, we don’t know.”

“You don’t, you don’t know? He could be fucking deaf forever, and you don’t know?” She gave him an unimpressed look, stared him down until he deflated, mumbled a sorry.

“Look, his injury is uncommon, not unprecedented. We hope for a full recovery, but at this point, it’s unlikely.” She gave him a half smile as he thanked her, and turned on her heel.

-

They gave Steve a notepad.

He didn’t like talking.

Felt like he sounded stupid.

Couldn’t hear himself to know otherwise.

And of course, he didn’t know sign language. Never had put much thought into learning it.

The nurses would give him pitying smiles, would write down their questions for him. They mostly kept to yes or no’s, allowing him to nod or shake his head.

Does it still hurt? Has your hearing improved? Do you need more pain killers?

He slept through the rest of the night, but he chalks that up to the morphine they pumped him with, the adrenaline draining from his body.

The next morning he woke up to a sweet looking nurse, writing him a note that he had visitors, and he was welcome to tell them no.

He sighed, and nodded, giving a vague come in gesture.

It was Joyce and Hop.

And Steve realized he was relieved the kids weren’t there.

Joyce scribbled something on his pad.

They told us everything. I’m so sorry, Honey.

And Steve stared crying. Started sobbing, because Joyce’s hugs were warm but her soft voice was gone.

-

Billy had never left the emergency room.

He had curled in one of the uncomfortable chairs, and dozed off until morning, when the Police Chief rolled in with the gaggle of kids and a short woman that gave him a shockingly tight hug, and thanked him for taking care of Steve.

“He’s deaf.” Billy’s throat felt raw. “They told me last night. Scanned his brain and the injury was real bad. They don’t know if he’ll ever hear again.”

“But they, there’s nothing they can do?” Dustin was pale.

“Not really. They said, it’s rare for how he was injured to result in hearing loss, so they just don’t know.”

The chief took that woman back to see Steve, told the kids they didn’t know if he was up for visitors just yet.

Dustin had an odd look on his face.

He set his jaw, rolled his shoulders back, planted himself in front of Billy.

“Take me to the library.” Billy raised an eyebrow.

“Not a chance.”

“Take me to the library.”

“Kid, no.”

“Yes! I need to do research! If I learn sign language, I can help Steve so we can communicate!” Lucas stood behind him.

“Take us to the library.” When Maxine stood as well, Billy sighed.

“Fine. Get in the car.”

-

Apparently Nancy and Jonathan broke into his house.

Nancy still remembered where he kept the spare key.

She had an odd look on her face as she passed Steve some sweats, a clean shirt. Jonathan scribbled a note and gestured to the bag he placed on one of the chairs.

We brought more clothes, didn’t know how long you’re staying.

He didn’t know either.

He told them thanks. One word was easy enough, and he’s pretty sure he saw Nancy’s eyes go a little teary at the sound of his voice.

-

Billy ushered the kids into the building, going over to chat with the librarian.

He had spent a decent amount of time here since moving to Hawkins. They had a decent selection, and plenty of the classics he liked to read.

He was too tired to flirt, but kept polite conversation as the kids rushed around.

“We need all the books you have on American Sign Language, deafness, and anything else on the subject.” She gave Dustin a pointed look.

“Mr. Henderson, you have five books checked out, as well as five you stole-”

“I’ll bring those back. This is urgent.” Billy put on his best tragic look.

“Marissa, the kid’s best friend has a, well he’s just gone deaf. Had a terrible accident. They just wanna be there for him, you know?” She looked at him. Her resolve was slipping. “You know, use my card for ‘em. You know I’m reliable.”

He checked out very few books, opted to read them in the library instead.

She sighed.

“I’ll show you what we’ve got.” And she grumbled all the way to the stack.

-

Steve was staring out the window when he received a note about more visitors.

He knew he’d have to face the kids at some point, he was just hoping to put it off.

He smiled as warmly as he could when they came in, his eyes going wide when Billy trailed in behind them.

He looked like shit.

Dustin scribbled something on the notepad.

Billy took us to the library and we got books on sign language and we’re all going to learn together so that we can all still communicate.

He wrote like he talked, run on sentences with rushed, sloppy, handwriting.

Everyone was staring at him weird, and he realized he had laughed. He took notepad scribbling on it quickly.

Thank you guys. Means a lot. Dustin smiled at him, nodding. He cast a glance over to Billy, leaning against the wall, staring out the window. Dustin took the pad.

He hasn’t left since he brought you here he slept out in the waiting room and took us to the library to get all the books AND let us check them out on his library card.

Steve nodded, clearing his throat. Billy’s jaw tightened at the sound.

“Billy.” His head whipped around, his eyes wide at Steve’s voice. Not too loud. He held up what Dustin had written down. “Thank you.” Billy just nodded at him.

-

The kids were picked up one by one, giving Steve tight hugs before they left.

Until it was Max asleep in a chair, Billy sitting in the other.

Steve watched as Billy took off his jacket, draping it over Max like a blanket.

He gave Steve a tight smile. Steve picked up the pad.

Why have you stayed? You didn’t have to.

Billy shrugged. Worried about you.

Steve flushed.

I’m okay.

Billy gave him a look.

Well, I will be. Billy gave him a little half smile. You really took them to the library?

The little mouthy one bullied me into it.

Steve laughed. Billy tried to stifle his own smile.

Love the image of Dustin bullying you into doing something.

Yeah well, it was humiliating. Steve smiled at him again.

So, are you learning sign language too?

Just the important shit. Princess, Pretty Boy, pain in my ass. The three P’s. Steve laughed again.

Right. Important shit. Remind me to learn asshole and piece of trash.

Steve had never really taken much notice to the way Billy laughed. But now that he couldn’t hear it, he studied Billy’s face. His eyes scrunched up, and had his teeth always been that white, and that straight? His Adam’s apple bobbed when he laughed and Steve didn’t even think, reached out and pressed his fingers softly against his throat, his palm flat on his chest.

Billy went still. Steve recoiled.

Sorry. Wanted to see if I could feel your laugh. Billy smiled sheepishly at him, taking his hand and bringing it back to his throat.

Steve could feel the vibrations in his throat, the way the air made his neck shift, his Adam’s apple moving.

He didn’t know what Billy was saying, just liked the way his lips moved, the way he could feel the words in his fingertips.

-

Steve’s face was soft as Billy spoke, his eyes big, his fingers soft against Billy’s throat.

“I guess I can say this now. Since you’re not ever gonna hear me say it, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I said to you, did to you. You just, you scare the shit outta me, Pretty Boy. I’m not, not allowed to feel this way about you. About, about any boy. Neil’s made that really fucking clear. But I saw you, and I wanted to be near you, to hear you laugh, be the, the cause of all your damn smiles, and I’ve made you laugh twice today. And that’s the best damn feelin’ in the world.”

Steve’s eyes flicked up to his face when he couldn’t feel words anymore, and those soft fingers retreated again.

Steve took the notepad.

Billy liked his handwriting.

I like the way it feels when you talk. He smiled all bright and Steve Harrington pretty. Never thought about feeling someone speaking like that before. And then Billy’s heart sank. What did you say.

Talkin’ shit on you.

That’s rude. I’m a deaf person now. That’s bigamy.

I’m going to assume you meant bigotry. Steve flushed.

Yeah, whatever.  Steve was all huffy. It was adorable.

Sorry, I’ll only talk shit in sign once we all earn it.

Thank you. I appreciate it. Steve reached out, slapping playfully at Billy’s chest. Billy had the overwhelming urge to take his hand, kiss his knuckles.

He was too scared.

When do you get out of here? I got an idea.

-

Billy was there to pick him and take him home.

Steve had been in the hospital for over two weeks, as they wanted to monitor the injury.

He had completely lost his hearing, and had given up hope of it returning.

But Billy had been by everyday, usually bringing Dustin and some of the library books, and they had all mastered the sign language alphabet, and had all learned a few words.

Steve had a few bags of things people had brought to him, everything fitting nicely in the trunk of the Camaro.

Billy had offered to drive him own, wanted to see something.

He made a beeline to the quarry, finding a spot overlooking the water.

He took the pad from Steve’s lap, writing I have an idea, tell me when you can feel it.

He rifled through the cardboard box in the backseat, holding up the tape for Steve to see.

It was KISS, Dynasty.

Steve made a face.

Billy rolled his eyes, pushing the tape in. He turned up the bass, cranking the volume.

The first song, I Was Made For Lovin’ You, had one of Billy’s favorite bass lines ever.

He turned up the bass some more, until his speakers sounded like shit, the song completely distorted.

But Steve’s eyes were wide, his hand on his chest. Billy stole the pad.

At concerts, sometimes you can feel the bass in your body. I thought that might work for you. Can still listen to music. I got a lot of bass heavy stuff.

Steve’s bottom lip trembled.

He sniffed, wiping at his eyes.

Billy doesn’t know what he had done wrong, if maybe it was insensitive, this whole music thing.

He went to turn down the music, but Steve grabbed his wrist. He took the notepad.

Thank you, Billy. You’re really nice. Not listening to music anymore was really making me sad. This was a good idea.

Steve smiled at him, his eyes still wide and gooey wet.

Billy didn’t think about.

Just put one hand on the back of Steve’s neck, and pulled him forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Steve was stiff against him, and Billy was about to pull back, scribble an apology on the pad, put then Steve sighed, and melted against Billy.

They pulled away from one another, and Steve was biting his lip, made Billy kiss him again.

Been wanting to do that for a while. Billy had tossed the pad onto his lap. Steve scoffed at it.

Why didn’t you?

Too scared. Steve just looked at him. The song clicked to the next, the steady kick drum of 2,000 Man made Steve’s hand flutter back to his chest. You like this one?

This album is good. Now that I can’t actually hear it. Billy shoved him. Steve huffed a little laugh.

i’ve done some research, but this is an intersection of two things i don’t know a lot about: deafness and children, so I could use all the help i can get

previous parts

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

—

the harrington mini-mansion is not a place eddie enjoys. the one good thing about it is it gave him steve. someone he knows has been through too much in that house. so, he hates it. he hates how big it is, how he knows it’s empty rooms and cold air in the vents. lights that are rarely turned off, glowing through the curtains even in the middle of the night. he hates that there’s a pool that none of them use and nobody really knows why. he hates that the three car garage has two vehicles gathering dust inside and the third in the driveway, not allowed in the same space. like a contaminant. he hates that steve is alone in this house. he hates that steve’s options in this house were to have parents around that drained and damaged his person or to have no parents at all.

he’s thinking about how much he hates it as he drives, white knuckling the steering wheel as the houses outside start getting more spaced apart, the floors multiplying, and he’s turning down a street that the neighbors surely think he has no business being down. eddie pulls into the driveway, next to the car not allowed in the garage, and kills his engine. he doesn’t want to do this here, have this talk. not in a place where neither of them feel safe, where there’s no room or item to seek comfort in. he needed to get steve out of that house, into his van.

he gets out, raises a fist to knock on his red door. no, steve won’t hear him. but he can’t just let himself in, that’s worse. is it? he weighs his options, using his hands as imaginary scales, taking out a quarter and flipping it (it rolls back up the driveway and he has to chase after it. like a loser. he fell too, did you know that? he fell chasing a quarter. his jeans have a fresh rip in them and there’s gravel in his cut up knee. that’s so embarrassing).

‘nobody saw that,’ he thinks as he stands up, pulling loose pebbles from his hair and stuffing the quarter back in his pocket. he didn’t check it. fuck.

deep breath. he takes out his key ring, flips to the copy of the harrington house key that steve gave him. steve told him only certain people get a key, special people. robin, dustin, max, and will all the way in california have a key. and so does eddie. because he was someone special.

no going back now. he unlocks the door, carefully pushing it open. he steps in, closing it behind him.

“steve?” he calls out into the empty foyer. he walks into the living room. “i know you’re here. your car’s outside.”

there’s a crunch under his right boot. eddie’s brows pull together and he looks down, spotting shattered ceramic on the floor. looking further, the stack of tapes usually by the tv is scattered across the hardwood. there’s more ceramic stuck in the white rug. he’ll vacuum that at some point. right now, concern sends his heart racing.

“steve?! where are you?” eddie’s louder now. his voice sounds frantic, shaking through quick breaths. he’s rushing through the first floor like a bat out of hell, shoving open doors and checking in cabinets. he’s yelling his name.

stairs. up the stairs. maybe he’s upstairs. why isn’t he answering? what happened in the living room? eddie runs up the stairs, taking them two at a time somehow without stumbling once. “steve? hello?”

eddie grabs the doorknob to steve’s bedroom, forcing it open harder than he needs to. his eyes are wide as they dart over the room and he’s panting.

there’s a lump under the blankets with brown locks sticking out. he sighs in relief, his shoulders dropping. his steps are soft, careful in a way eddie munson isn’t supposed to be. he makes his way over to the bed, reaching out a hand and laying it where he assumes a shoulder in. he rubs gently, trying to urge him into turning over.

steve pulls down the blanket and looks over, freezing at the sight of eddie. his cheeks are splotchy, his hair a mess from what he can assume was some rough tugging. he’s looking at eddie with these eyes that are huge and rimmed red. there’s unshed tears filled in his tear ducts and fresh tracks down his ruddy cheeks, and isn’t that just heartbreaking?

eddie sighs softly, squeezes his shoulder. “um…can we talk? like really talk. i get it if you don’t want to and would rather like never see me again, but i think we should talk and i also think we’d be more comfortable doing it at my place rather than yours, so i think we should head to the trailer first. wayne is at work so he won’t be in the way.”

steve’s eyes flick all over his face and he’s shaking his head slightly. he looks so lost. “i- i don’t know…don’t know what…”

and yeah, that makes sense. eddie should’ve realized that seeing as that’s why he was there in the first place. his face burns in embarrassment. how can he do this…think, think, think!

—

when eddie was four, he rode in the back of a police car all the way to a trailer park in hawkins, indiana. about two and a half hours away from his home. he’s woken up in the backseat by the nice policeman gently shaking his skinny, bruised knee. eddie takes his accepted hand and walks up the steps, watches as a grumpy looking man opened the door with a cigarette in his mouth and sleep in his eyes and he talks with the cop. the man lets out a heavy sigh and rubs a dirty hand over his face. eddie’s poking at the bruises on the insides of his elbows. next thing he knows, he’s curled up in a big bed and it’s so cozy, the softest thing he’s ever slept in, so much nicer than the pile of old clothes back home. the man with the cigarette sleeps on the floor next to him. he says his name is uncle wayne. eddie’s never slept so long in his life.

it’s only a day later when the withdrawals start to set in and eddie’s shaking, screaming, sobbing, hitting. wayne can’t communicate with him. he doesn’t know what to do. eddie’s gone nonverbal. he doesn’t calm down until he wears himself out, passing out asleep for another however many hours and wayne is left awake. exhausted, but awake and he searches through his old war things in a box in his closet and pulls out his book of american sign language. he had a friend back in the army who lost his hearing in battle. wayne learned for him.

he picks out a few words, like “scared”, “safe”, “breathe”. he practices them, slowly teaches eddie in the morning when he wakes up. eddie never learns much, just a few words here and there. enough to get his point across to his uncle in a moment of panic.

—

“okay…okay,” eddie nods his head to himself before sitting on the edge of the bed, making eye contact with steve. with an unsure hand, he points to steve. you.

“umm…alright…” eddie takes a deep breath, praying to whatever god there may be that he doesn’t butcher anything. he holds out his right hand, waves it once towards himself. come.

fingers to chin, bring to his ear. home.

finally, points to himself. me.

he does it again. “i’m taking you to my house,” he says outloud as he does, hoping he’s getting his point across.

warily, steve sits up. he nods once, twice. he won’t meet eddie’s eyes as he slips into his sneakers, his shoulders shaking and sniffles heard almost every breath. eddie gives him space, watches from afar. when his sneakers are tied, eddie offers him a hand to stand off the bed. he doesn’t take it.

with a hand hovering over steve’s lower back, he walks them out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and to the front door. he hands the keys to steve. gently pushes him in the direction of the car and signals he’s gonna be another minute.

steve’s brows furrow but he takes the keys, walking to the van to start it up and sit in the passenger seat. once the front door is closed, eddie turns around to face the mess on the floor. carefully, he picks broken ceramic from the rug and hardwood, stacking it in his hand. he makes his way to the kitchen to wrap the sharp bits in paper towel before double bagging it and throwing it away. he goes back to the living room and re-stacks the tapes in alphabetical order the way he knows steve keeps them.

he makes it out to the van and climbs in. steve is already curled towards the opposite window, staring out at the darkness of his front yard. from what eddie can see, tears are still actively dripping down his flushed face. he wants to reach out, wipe them away and kiss the booboos better.

he keeps his hands to himself and gets ready to endure a more than likely painfully awkward car ride.

eddie lifts his walkie to his mouth while steve is still looking away.

“i got him. over.”

—

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