#llfe

Steve glared, but his anger was overshadowed by the way his cheeks were glowing pink, even in the dark of the evening. 

You were waiting on the sofa, nervously picking at a loose thread on your shirt, pretending you didn’t hear everything that had just been said. Steve swallowed, blew out a deep breath and gave you a small, shy smile when you looked up and met his gaze. 

Honestly, Steve hadn’t even wanted to come on the trip. But it was Valentine’s weekend and despite breaking up a few months prior, Nancy and Jonathan were going above and beyond to assure the rest of the group that it totally wasn’t awkward and of course everyone could still hang out together. 

And what better way to prove that than to rent a cabin for a few nights out by Sugar Creek, courtesy of Mr and Mrs Harrington’s credit card, of course. Steve had shrugged off the offer at first, unbothered and wanting a weekend off to hang out in his room and be lazy, play some video games, reunite himself with his stash of playboys and maybe even catch a basketball game with some old school friends. 

But Robin begged and begged, claiming how much fun it would be, waxing poetic about forest walks and log fires and marshmallows and movie nights. The boy hadn’t perked up until she mentioned your name, and how you’d be joining. 

And that was fine. It was. ‘Cause you and Steve were friends, closer than ever, actually. Hanging out more and more just the two of you until Steve wasn’t sure what was just friends being friends and what was a date. But the first night at the cabin rolled in after pizza and some movies, a game of go fish that had alcoholic consequences and suddenly the bags that had been dumped at the doorway needed to be allocated to rooms. 

The three bedrooms. For seven people. 

Nancy and Jonathan cleared their throats and exchanged tight smiles, looking awkwardly around the room until Nancy’s voice went a little too high and bright as she exclaimed, “Robin! Roomies?”

Robin agreed, looking over at you with a silent apology, ‘cause she was the one who’s invited you. But you smiled and shrugged and weren’t all that surprised when Jonathan claimed Argyle and the two boys shuffled off to the room furthest away from Robin and Nancy’s. 

It just left you, Eddie and Steve. It seemed simple enough to deduce that you’d sleep on the sofa, sure that there’d be some spare pillows and quilts hidden in a closet or two. But Eddie threw himself down on the cushions before you could, stretching out and groaning theatrically, a grin on his face that seemed to be reserved for Steve. 

“Well,” he declared, beaming at you both as you stood shoulder to shoulder, lips parted in surprise. “Night night, kids.”

Steve made a strangled noise, somewhere stuck between surprise and a protest of some sort, but you beat him to talking. “Uh, wouldn’t I be better on the couch, Eddie?” you smiled, shy and sweet and it made Eddie grin wider. “You guys can bunk together instead.”

Eddie scoffed, already shrugging off his hoodie and throwing it somewhere across the room. “And leave a lady on the sofa?” He pouted at you. “What do you take us for, huh, sweetheart? Two douchebags?”

He didn’t give you a chance to protest. 

“Don’t sweat it, you and Stevie can share a room, it’ll be real cosy.”

You were definitely sweating it. And by the looks of the boy’s wide eyes and flushed cheeks, so was Steve. 

Eddie grinned again, salacious and as if he knew something you didn’t.  He lay back on the cushions, an arm sling behind his head as he waved the other at you both, fingers wiggling. 

“Leave room for Jesus,” he winked. 

————

Leaving space for the lord and saviour didn’t seem to be a possibility, ‘cause when you opened the door to the last bedroom, you stood and stared at the sight before you. From over your shoulder, with his chest almost pressed to your back, Steve swore quietly. 

There was only one bed. 

And it was tiny, less than a double, only a little larger than a single, with two pillows stacked on top of each other. You dropped your bag as you stepped into the room, a cosy space with matching pine furniture and deep green walls, almost the same shade as the forest outside the window. 

You spun on your heel, looking at Steve who was more flushed than ever, cheeks a pretty tint of pink and his lips were parted in a silent gasp that didn’t seem to end. He looked a little overwhelmed, the same way you felt. 

“Um—”

“Look, I can,” Steve interrupted, his voice a little weak, apologetic almost. “I can share the couch with Eddie.”

You frowned, a tiny stitch between your brows that Steve wanted to soothe away with the pad of his thumb. He didn’t. 

“Steve, the couch is smaller than the bed,” you huffed out a soft laugh but Steve could sense your nerves through the humour. He saw the way your chest was rising a little too quickly, the way you were pushing at your hair behind your ear. “And no offence to Eddie, but I think he might take up more room than me.” You smiled, shy and unsure and it felt like an offering. 

Steve smiled back, just as nervous, hands a little clammy ‘cause despite all the afternoons, the late nights and days out he’d spent with you, the closet he’d gotten was sitting beside you in the dark of his parents living room, shoulder to shoulder so he could feel you flinch when the movie screeched and the murderer appeared on screen. 

This was different. This was so much closer. This was more than the possibility of a date. 

“I could sleep in my car, or something,” Steve tried again but he really didn’t want to sleep in his car. But truly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to sleep next to you. The idea of it overwhelmed him. “I don’t wanna make you uncom—”

“Steve,” you cut him off, not unkindly, voice all soft and unsure and you were frowning again but shitshitshit, you looked sad. “Do I smell bad, or something? D’you think I have cooties..?”

“What?” The boy looked alarmed, “no! No, no, of course not. You smell, like, the opposite of bad.” Steve was rambling, his chest tight and hot with embarrassment but he couldn’t stop himself. “You smell like, super nice, all the time. Like, like mango or something. Cherries ‘n shit. Fuck.”

 You were grinning by the time he cut himself off with a curse, lashes fluttering shut as he winced and you wanted to reach out to him, curl your fingers around his in reassurance but you didn’t feel as brave as that. Not yet. 

“I won’t feel uncomfortable,” you told him instead and it warmed Steve to hear how sincere you sounded. “As long as you’re okay with it?”

Steve could only nod. 

And then you were disappearing into the tiny bathroom across the hall, a bundle that Steve assumed was your pyjamas clutched to your chest with your toothbrush. You smiled as you passed him, still shy, cheeks as flushed as his and you were pretty, you were so, so pretty that it made Steve’s chest hurt. 

The boy groaned into his hands when you closed the door, wondering how he was supposed to spend the night pressed up against you and not pop a boner. ‘Cause that shit had been happening most mornings for the last eight years and having a pretty girl tucked in beside him wasn’t a necessary ingredient. 

He heard you run the tap, the sound of your jeans and sweater hit the floor and he startled, rushing to pull out what he’d packed. Despite the extra pair of jeans, another sweater, a few t-shirts, a handful of boxers and the switched off walkie- talkie Dustin insisted he took, there wasn’t anything that Steve could wear to bed. 

He swore, groaning again as he threw his bag down onto the carpet and started to panic. Of course he didn’t pack pyjamas, he didn’t own pyjamas and he really didn’t expect to be sharing a room with anyone other than Eddie this weekend, maybe Robin, and neither of them certainly cared about him sleeping in his underwear. 

Steve was standing in the middle of the small room when you reappeared, still in his jeans and t-shirt, one hand buried in his messy hair. He smiled at you, an almost grimace that looked like an apology but it quickly faded into a slack jawed gape as he took in your shorts, your tiny tank top with tinier straps. 

You scrunched your nose as you dropped your clothes on top of your duffle, crossing your arms over your chest and you faced him with a new sort of shyness. Steve wasn’t sure he’d seen this much of your skin before.  

“Sorry,” you murmured softly. “I kinda assumed I’d be in with Robin.”

Steve let out a laugh, just as soft as your voice and he smiled a little easier. “Same,” he grinned before it faltered, nerves overshadowing once more. “I don’t, uh, I don’t have anything to wear to bed.”

You swept past him, mango and strawberry body wash left in the air behind you, as you sat on the edge of the bed, a heat to your cheeks that only you could feel. You swallowed hard, licked your bottom lip and tried to sound bolder than you felt. 

“You can take your jeans off, Harrington, I won’t bite.”

Steve turned beetroot at your words, lips parted and you swore you heard his breath hitch. But he nodded, hands fumbling at his waistband and you smiled, ducking your chin and turning away so he could undress with your eyes on him. 

You heard the denim hit the floor with a soft thump, his sweater following, until Steve cleared his throat and you turned back to see him in chequered boxers, a white T-shirt that looked old and soft. His hair was a riot from how he’d undressed so swiftly, eyes bright with nerves? Anticipation? Excitement?

There so much skin to see, all bare legs and arms between you both, your tank top revealing more of your chest that you’d usually put on display and when Steve stretched over the desk to turn off the small lamp, you caught a flash of his tummy, the trail of hair there, the jut of his hip bones before the room went dark. 

You couldn’t see him. Not with the absence of street lights outside the window, the tall forest hiding you both from the glow of the moon. But you felt Steve fumble over, heard him curse when his toes hit his bag and the bed dipped when his hands found it. 

“You got a preference?” He whispered, “what side do you wanna sleep on?”

You shook your head and shrugged before you realised that the boy couldn’t really see you either so you let out a breath and whispered right back. “I don’t mind,” you told him but you shuffled back anyway, crawling up the mattress until you could tuck yourself under the duvet. 

Steve followed, slowly, hesitantly, the sheets lifting and the bed dipped as he lay beside you, his head on the same pillow, close enough that you could smell his shampoo and the cologne he always wore. 

“Shit, sorry,” he winced when his hip bumped yours, an inevitable outcome considering the lack of space but the contact made your body burn so you could only hum back a response. 

The silence stretched on as your eyes grew used to the dark, until the ink black turned into shades of navy and you could see the outline of the furniture, the rise and fall of Steve’s chest beside you. The boy was as close to the edge as he could get without falling off, and you were almost sure he’d planted one foot on the ground below to ensure that didn’t happen.  You were on your side, body stiff and straight when your hands curled to your chest so you didn’t accidentally touch him and it was uncomfortable, it was impossible, it was frustrating. 

“Steve?” Your voice rang out like a bullet in the quiet, despite how softly you spoke and Steve startled. 

“Yeah?” Steve shuffled further away and your stomach dropped. “You good? I can go downstairs, honestly, there’s an armchair that looks like it might actually recline and I—”

You reached out, a hand across the mattress, across the cool space between you both until your fingers trailed across his arm. He was warm, much warmer than you and you let your hand curl around his bicep, underneath the cotton of his shirt and you felt him still. You circled your thumb on the inside of his arm, just once, in a way that you hoped was reassuring. 

Steve stopped talking. 

“You can come closer, you know,” you hated how shy you sounded, how unsure. But you were wearing next to nothing in bed with the boy you really, really liked and maybe it had been a stupid though, but you started to believe Steve liked you too. You couldn’t handle his rejection, not like this. “If you want to. It’s okay.”

You held your breath. Then, Steve moved, shifting across the sheets -  inches, really - until his leg was pressed to yours and then he rolled, settling onto his side and facing you. He finally relaxed, and you felt it, the way he sunk into the pillow, the way his breath left him in a long, soft sigh that smelled like spearmint toothpaste. 

You could make out the line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips. He was watching you, lashes fanning over the highs of his cheeks and Steve was all shades of blue and lavender in the shadows. You watched him part his lips as if to speak, but he decided against it, smiling softly instead.

So you whispered, “hi.”

His smile turned to something even more gentle, his body shifting a little closer still when you brought your hands to lay on the mattress between you both. Steve did the same, centimetres apart, close enough to feel the warmth from the other. 

“Hi,” he whispered back. He was looking at you like he thought you were magic, like you were made of gold dust, of stars. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, bottom lip tucked between teeth and it was okay, it was very, very okay. “Yeah, it’s okay, Steve.”

His heart clenched at the sound of his name on your lips, the way it always did, but Jesus Christ, you were whispering it to him in bed and it made him dizzy, made him see colours behind his eyelids that weren’t there when he blinked, hazy, feeling drunk. 

It made him feel braver. The dark, the blue shadows, the way you were looking at him like he wasn’t close enough. So he inched his hand forward, fingertips touching yours, a light graze, a small advance, a question, a what now? 

It was electric. 

Steve could’ve leant in, closed his eyes, found your mouth with his in the dark. Or maybe he’d wait until the last second, let his nose bump against your own until he could see your lashes flutter and your lips part for him.  

Would you do that? Would you let him? 

Your toes brushed his ankles, a shock of cold in the heat of the bed and it made Steve sigh, made his hand move over your own  a little more bravely. His pinky finger slid along the length of yours. He watched you swallow, eyes wide, bright even in the dark. 

He whispered your name, another question. Maybe a promise. It sounded like ‘please.’

You nodded, breath held in your chest until it burned, a white, hot lick of heat over your throat and it was delicate, it was insane, it was the best thing you’d ever felt until—

Steve leaned in, slow and careful, pupils blown wide and his nose pressed to your cheek  as you lifted your chin for him, lips parting so his slid over your own, a warm, soft kiss that made you gasp into his mouth. 

It was chaste until it wasn’t. It was gentle until your hand left Steve’s and they curled into the front of his shirt, soft cotton fisted between your fingers and you were pulling him closer still. His hand found your waist, slipping over and under the silky material of your pyjamas, an almost accident but he gripped you tighter when you pushed yourself into him. 

And then fingers were trailing up your side, a ghost over the dips and curve of your breast, almost too sensitive without a bra, too much bare skin to feel. Steve’s hand cupped your jaw, a soft cradle, a sweet hold until his thumb tugged at the corner of your bottom lip, sneaking between his mouth and yours so he could coax you to open up for him and you did with a breathy keen. 

Nothing else happened that night, but it was enough. You whispered into the night, kissed each other sweet and slow and deep and dirty and fell asleep tangled in each other. And in the morning, you avoided everyone’s knowing gaze, ignored the way Eddie grinned and wiggled his brows. 

“Good sleep?” He’d asked you both over a bowl of cereal, the smell of fresh coffee over taking the smoke from last night's fire. You flushed and Steve nodded, glaring at him. “Was there enough room for Jesus? Did he get squished? It’s really rude to squish Jesus, y’know.”

Eddie came home from work to find you on the couch, jeans already thrown in protest at the edge of your bedroom door, your too big sweater barely covering your underwear as you annihilated a tub of Ben & Jerry’s cherry Garcia. Heathers played on the TV and Eddie grinned, dumping the bag of groceries he’d picked up on his way home on the kitchen counter. 

“Cute butt,” he said in way of greeting, gesturing to the tiny Pac-Man ghosts that were printed across the cotton of your underwear. You grumbled and pulled your sweater down lower, offering him the tub as he slumped down beside you. “Didn’t you have a date?”

You glared at him as he took your spoon and shovelled some of the ice cream into his mouth and he stared back with wide eyes as he mumbled an offended, “what?!”

“Yes, I was supposed to have a date,” you huffed, stealing the spoon back and licking off the melting pink sugar that was running down the handle. “But seeing as you’ve found me drowning my sorrows in ice cream I can’t fucking afford—”

“—in your pants,” Eddie cut in with a smirk.

“—in my pants,” you glared at him before continuing, “d’you think my date went well?”

 Eddie pouted and curled his hand around your ankles, pulling your legs until they were draped on his lap. You pouted back, passing the spoon and digging your feet between his thighs, seeking out the warmth he possessed even in the coldest of months. 

“What happened?” He asked gently, and when he saw your frown deepen, he straightened up, setting you with a look that made your toes curl. “Did he hurt you? Do I need to—”

“No! No,” you sighed, placated by the fact you knew Eddie would do some serious harm for you, even when you discouraged it. “He didn’t hurt me. He didn’t even show up. Restaurant was packed, it was mortifying. Stupid valentines decorations were everywhere and I had to walk out alone through a curtain of fucking pink hearts.”

You shoved another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, mournful. 

Eddie’s expression turned incredulous and his hands curled around your calf, smoothing upupup from your ankles until he held you tight, hands warm and a comfort on your skin. 

“Fuckin’ dickwad,” he fumed, cheeks pink with annoyance. “Dude doesn’t know what he’s missing out on, babe, trust me - you can do way better than him.”

You flushed at his compliment, his sweetness, the term of endearment. You shrugged, glancing down at your stupid underwear and the sweater that you weren’t really sure who it belonged to. Maybe Eddie? Could’ve been Steve’s, but you were almost certain you’d stolen it from Robin’s bedroom after too many vodka shots—

“M’hardly a catch,” you said pathetically and fuck, maybe you were feeling too sorry for yourself but it was nice to see when Eddie threw his head back, scoffing, all amateur dramatics. 

He clutched a hand to his chest, curls all wild as he turned to look at you, leaning in and digging his fingers into the space behind your knee until you squealed at him, grinning. 

“Are you fuckin’ with me?” He asked you, looking at you like you’d told him the sky was green. “You’re a total smoke show, c’mon now, behave yourself.”

 You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile and you let out a noise of protest when Eddie leapt up from the sofa, going back to his grocery bag on the countertop. He dug around as you peered at him from over the back of the couch, brows furrowed as you waited. 

“I know it’s not a steak dinner with some hand action in the backseat of a shitty car,” Eddie grinned, salacious, eyebrows wiggling when you groaned, “but here, happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

He threw you something small and wrapped, your hands reaching out to catch it clumsily and you grinned as you inspected the surprise present. A packet of candy hearts, the kind that had little messages inked on them, all sour sugar and pastel colouring. 

 “Teddy,” you cooed at the boy, adoring the way his cheeks flushed pink as he flung himself back over the sofa to push himself next to you. You pushed a gentle finger to his cheekbone, squeaked when he pretended to chomp at it. “You’re a secret romantic aren’t you? Wait until I tell Steve.”

“I’ll deny everything,” Eddie informed you curtly, but he was smiling as he took the ice cream run from you, setting the melting treat on the coffee table. “You gonna share?”

You answered by ripping open the candy, handing him one after you inspected the baby blue heart with its faded message. 

‘UR CUTE.’

Eddie grinned and popped it into his mouth, grimacing when the sugar fizzed against his tongue, staining it blue. “If the shoe fits, am I right?”

You smiled, teasing. “You’re okay,” you lied and maybe the boy saw right through it ‘cause he smirked and knocked his knee against your own. 

Eddie unwrapped the next one and snorted, holding it up by his fingertips for you to read. ‘BE HAPPY,’ it declared and before you could protest, Eddie pushed it to your lips and you made a noise of protest before biting down. 

“God, have they always tasted this awful?” You grimaced at the artificial sweetness, the sour fizz that twinged at the inside of your cheeks. 

He laughed and nodded. “Probably.” 

The next candy heart that fell into your palm made your heart stutter and you cleared your throat, suddenly more nervous than you’d ever been in front of the boy. 

‘KISS ME.’

Maybe it was your shitty non-date, maybe it was impatience, maybe it was all those years of longing and wanting and staring and crushing hard. 

Maybe. 

You handed Eddie the heart with not much fanfare, your legs tucked up to your chest, shins pressed to his side, legs tucked under his thighs. Warm, close, comforting, familiar. You tried not to burn from the inside out when he took it, reading the message with his cheeks matching the pink candy. His gaze flickered up to you, lips a little parted, like he’d let out a gasp you couldn’t hear. 

He pursed his lips and stared back at the heart in his hand, like he was weighing up his options. You expected him to shove it into his mouth, crunch down on it and destroy the evidence, but he didn’t, and you really weren’t sure if that was making you feel better or worse. 

“Uh,” Eddie coughed, his voice raspier than it had been. “Is that a suggestion? Or a bad joke?” He looked back at you, pupils blown wide like he couldn’t help himself, like he was already thinking about what you’d taste like. “Or an order… ‘cause I know you’re a little bossy, babe, but sometimes you’re hard to read and—”

You pressed your palm to his lips, shutting him up as you tried not to curl up with the embarrassment of it all. Your chest felt too tight, your heartbeat sitting in your throat and suddenly you were so fucking aware that you were sitting in your underwear with your roommate, best friend, and oh my god you were absolutely in love with him. 

This was a bad idea. 

But you did it anyway. 

“Eddie,” you blurted out, voice a little higher than it had been before, because, oh shit, you were panicking. “Jesus, shut up, okay?”

Eddie stared at you wide eyed and you could feel how soft and warm his lips were against the skin of your palm and the thought of it made your stomach flip. But he nodded and you pulled your hand away, only to rest it between you both on the top of your knee. 

You stared back, lips parted like you were ready to speak but you couldn’t bring yourself to get the words out. What were you supposed to say? I love you? I want you? Can you kiss me out of pity ‘cause I tried to date a guy who was the opposite of you and he didn’t even show up? 

Each option made your throat feel too tight. But Eddie waited and waited and waited and eventually he saw your eyes soften and your chest hitch and you were looking at his lips. 

He blew out a breath, slid a rough, guitar string scarred hand up along your leg until his fingers curled around yours and he was looking at your lips too. 

“Babe—” he started, gentle, fond, knowing. “Can I—?”

You’d moved before Eddie could finish, leaning in to meet him halfway and he tasted like cherries and fizzy sugar. He groaned at the contact, your lips pushed to his and he wasted no time in cupping the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your knees were crushed between your chest and his. You were clumsy about it, neither wanting to interrupt what had been started, moving to your knees as Eddie wrapped an arm around your waist so he could haul you onto his lap. 

He was sweet about it, as sweet as the candy, his nose pressed to your cheek as he kissed you deep and slow, like you both had all the time in the world, which maybe you did. His hand covered your jaw, thumb sweeping over your cheek before it tugged at your bottom lip, silently asking you to open for him and when you did, he moaned, a pretty sound that made you swipe your tongue over his. 

You were both breathing hard when you pulled away, chests heaving, your hands in Eddie’s hair and god, you weren’t sure when that happened. You watched as the boy licked over his bottom lip, glossy from you, as if he was chasing the taste. 

Eddie batted at him, sushing the boy with more volume than required but you were right there. Bumping shoulders with Steve, lit up by the bright lights, all red and pink, blue and green and orange. You were fixing El’s hair, your hands scooping her hair into a ponytail for her as she dug her own sticky fingers into the candy floss, laughing at something Steve was saying to Mike.

Eddie flushed, cheeks pink when you looked over the younger girl’s head and caught his gaze, smiling shyly. Eddie grinned back, unsure and with his breath caught in his throat. He lifted a hand, fingers wiggling at you in what was supposed to be a wave, as if he hadn’t already greeted you an hour before when everyone met at the front gates of the fairground. 

He’d wanted to tell you how pretty you looked, sheer tights under a short dress, a floaty thing that was cherry red with tiny white flowers dotted all over. But you’d looked up at him, mascara coated lashes making you look doe eyed and his words had gotten caught in his throat. Instead, he’d lingered on the outskirts of the group all evening, until the sun set and the lights of the fair lit you up in all the colours of the rainbow. He’d stolen glances at you, watched you with a smile as you rode the carousel with the girls, skirt fluttering and hair wind whipped.

Eddie had gulped and blinked when you’d rushed back towards him and the rest of the boy’s eyes bright and teary from the wind, but you were beaming, and when you pressed your hand to his arm, telling him he had to promise you’d ride the Big Dipper with you afterwards. He did, grinning, stomach swooping at the steep drops and the way you curled both your arms around his, tucking your face to his shoulder, cheeks flushed and laughing until your eyes went watery. 

Maybe it was impatience, maybe it was because you were both being so damn obvious. But the kids found a photobooth and crammed themselves in, jostling to slide coins into the slot so they could pull faces at the camera, arms around each other, tongues steamed with blue and pink sugar stains. 

They urged Robin and Steve in next, eyes rolling in exasperation but they obliged, doing their best to make each other laugh, cross eyed and middle fingers saluting the camera as Robin laughed throatily. You could see her leg pressed to Steve’s under the short curtain, the two friends side by side on the tiny bench but neither of them cared about the proximity, used to being close, sharing beds, holding the other when things got sad. 

You weren’t used to being that close to eddie. Not yet. Not then. So when Max pushed you forward and Dustin and Lucas grabbed at Eddie’s hands, wrestling him towards the booth, you panicked. But the kids were insistent, ignoring both of your arguments, your soft protests ignored ‘cause everyone else had photos except you and Eddie. 

Didn’t you and Eddie want photos too? 

Steve and Robin just stood and shrugged, hiding their matching grins behind open fists and a heaped helping of funnel cake, eyes wide as they tried to act as indignant as you both felt. 

And then:

You were in the tiny booth, curtain ripped closer to give you both privacy and fig could only hear the quiet laughter and rattling of quarters as one of the kids rolled some coins into the slot. It whirred to life, the soft light making Eddie glow and you could see the pink on his cheeks, how lips were parted as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t know how. 

“M’sorry,” he eventually said. “I’ve only known them for a year or two, their lack of manners is really Harrington’s fault.”

You smiled at that, shyness leaking away, fingers playing with the hem of your dress and Eddie tried really hard not to stare at that. “He’s gotta do better with the training.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!”Eddie grinned, a wide, beaming smile that was brighter than the inside of the booth, the sharp flash that went off without warning, capturing the first image that would be shown on the reel. 

You both blinked, laughing. You were still standing, facing each other, too close in the small space. Eddie gestured to the bench. “S’pose we might as well sit and smile.”

Eddie offered you to sit first, a gentleman through and through, so you perched on the seat nervously, gazing back up at him, waiting. Maybe you imagined it, but you watched the way his chest hitched, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. But he sat, unable to help the way he pressed his side against yours, thighs crushed together, the length of his belt cold against your bare thigh. He was tall enough that your shoulder dug into his chest, his curls brushing your cheek, your neck and he smelled like sugar and smoke. 

Eddie licked his lips, nervous, peering down at you with a shy smile and his breath shook when he asked, “is this okay?”

Another flash, bright and surprising, capturing the way you were both gazing at each other, lips parted in surprise and suspense. 

“Shit, where’s the timer for this thing?” Eddie tried to joke but his head felt fuzzy and he could smell your perfume, your shampoo, and your dress hitched itself up when you sat, showing off more skin than he was used to seeing. 

But you’d nodded at him, happy to be pressed into his side and you seemed to be counting this time, nudging him when the machine started a quiet beep that you both hadn’t heard before. “Ready?” You asked and he grinned when you did, your nose scrunched in a way that you did when you were happy, a little shy, overwhelmed. 

Eddie thought it was adorable, he thought it was the cutest fucking thing he’d ever seen and his eyes went soft with it, brown sugar melting just for you. The flash went off. 

Neither of you noticed.  

“Last one,” Eddie whispered and he was pretty sure he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you yet, hadn’t looked at the camera once. He thought about his friends waiting outside, their eyes trained on the tray your prints would slide out from. Fighting off the embarrassment of the things he knew they’d say, he turned to the camera, smiling sheepishly. 

He felt you shift, closer than ever, impossibly so, your chest pressed against his bicep and you were warm and smelled sweeter than the fairground. Your lips were a whisper against his ear, causing goosebumps, making his eyes wide and him still. 

“Happy Valentine’s day, Eddie.”

You kissed his cheek, your eyes fluttering closed as he only got wider, his own lips stretching into a smile that was both surprised and proud. He looked like he’d won the lottery, his eyes bright, dimples showing as you pressed your lips to the spot above one. 

The camera flashed and Eddie walked out the booth with that same smile making his cheeks ache, the stain of your cherry lip gloss sticky on his skin but he didn’t wipe it off for the rest of the night. 

Eddie huffed out an exasperated sigh, giving in and confessing to his friend as he leaned over and clung to the window frame. “Yes! Yes, I fuckin’ forgot, ‘cause I’ve never had a girl before, Harrington, and fuck if I know what you’re supposed to do on Valentine’s Day!”

Steve grinned, selfishly enjoying the other boy’s despair. He shrugged, unhelpful as he leaned back in his seat and kept his eyes on the door for Dustin. “Were you supposed to make plans? Did she talk about it? Hint at anything?”

Eddie wracked his brain for any suggestion that you were interested in being wined and dined by him and he grimaced at the idea of having to wear a button up in a restaurant that provided him with more than one fork. But he shook his head, because you’d not said a word about the day, and it had made it a lot easier for Eddie to turn a blind eye to the pink hearts, the cupids, the red candy boxes. 

“Nothin’,” Eddie replied.

Steve pondered for a moment and then shrugged again, too casual for the way Eddie’s heart was still hammering against his chest in what could only be described as abject horror. You were the first girl Eddie had really, really liked, and by some miracle, you’d liked him too. He didn’t want to fuck it up so soon and he groaned, feeling like he’d failed some sort of boyfriend test.

“Hey, hey, look,” Steve tried to placate, “maybe you’re off the hook, yeah? Maybe she doesn’t care about that kinda stuff, just buy her somethin’ cute instead, like a--”

Dustin came careening across the lot before Steve could finish, interrupting his sentence with the slam of a door and a shrill, “drive, Steve, drive!”

Steve merely rolled his eyes and turned back to Eddie, who looked distraught. “Dude,” Steve soothed, “it’s fine, okay? Your girl isn’t that big into all that romance shit, right?”

“Steve, if I'm late, Suzie’s gonna straight up murder me!”

“Good!” Steve barked back at the younger boy, “maybe I’ll know what peace is! Shit, uh, look it’s fine Eds, you’re fine, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Eddie didn’t get to respond before Steve was putting the car into drive and peeling out of the lot, the sounds of him and Dustin arguing barely heard over the squeal of the tires. Eddie was left in the dust, hands clenched into fists as he tried to work out what the fuck he was supposed to do. Steve was right, in a way. You weren’t huge on romance, not the over the top, cheesy, corny stuff you saw in the movies. In fact, Eddie saw you scrunch up your nose at anything that you considered over the top: the PDA couples at the mall, the huge stuffed animals at the last fair, the heart shaped boxes of chocolate, the cotton candy pink greeting cards that were the size of his Metallica poster on his bedroom door.

And that was fine, Eddie loved you for your likes and dislikes, your tough attitude, your aversion to early mornings and anything too happy. You preferred horrors to romances, a soft hand on your leg under the table over a public make out session, something for your eyes only rather than a declaration of love for everyone to see.

Eddie knew all that. He did, ‘cause he knew you better than anyone else. But he didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to get you for Valentine’s Day. Did you want anything? Was he a shit boyfriend for not setting up a date, a surprise? Would you be more mad if he came to yours with something garishly cute? Bright pink and sweet? Or was this some kind of test? A doomed failure 

that would make him wanna kick himself?

So the boy scrambled to the van, flipping off Gareth and Jeff as they waved and laughed from their car, both of them already sparking up a joint that had been tucked in the sun visor. Eddie didn’t know where he was driving to, considering the shops at the mall were closed. The Main Street was the same, almost all of the businesses shut for the night and cloaked in darkness, the only lit windows coming from the busy restaurants that were filled with couples.

He drove to your house anyway, heading down the familiar streets that took him out by the farmers fields, the stretches of grass an inky blue in the dark and Eddie was cursing at himself until he spotted a patch of colour at the side of one field. The tires screeched as the boy braked hard, pulling over to the side of the road and leaping out, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. 

There weren't many of them, but they were all pretty and soft coloured, a smattering of wildflowers by the edges of the wheat fields, pinks and lilacs, a burst of sharp red, a deeper violet thing amongst green stalks and leaves. Eddie grinned, an excitement bubbling in his chest, ‘cause he’d never seen any flowers in your room before. But there had always been an empty vase, a pretty blue thing that sat in the middle of your dresser, sad and unused.

Maybe it was for good reason, Eddie caught himself, a flicker of doubt in his head, maybe you didn’t like flowers, he thought. The boy certainly didn’t think you’d like the huge, overpowering bouquets from the florist on Fifth, the one with glitter covered butterflies between the petals, big, pink bows holding them all together. 

But these ones, the delicate collection that was slowly growing in Eddie’s hand, were pretty. They were modest and sweet smelling, like the mere idea of Spring clung to them, like last night's rain. Maybe you didn’t like flowers, Eddie thought again, brow furrowed. Or maybe, no one had ever given you some.

So Eddie whispered a soft ‘fuck it’ under his breath and plucked some more from the ground, gentle as he bunched them together until the colours looked nice. He took his time to wind his bandana around the stalks, trying once, twice, three times to tie it in a bow, giving up and knotting it instead. But he was happy with his creation, something that felt like pride puffing warm in his chest, and the rest of the drive to yours went with a little less panic.

Climbing the tree outside your bedroom was the easy part, and so was avoiding your dad when the man walked past the hallway window. It was easy to knock on the glass, grin at you wide and bright when you opened the curtains and stared at him wide eyed.

It was harder to present the flowers to you - the petals only a little crushed from where Eddie had stuck them in his back pocket as he climbed. The boy watched your expression as he clambered into your room, the familiar smell of your perfume engulfing him. He caught the way your eyes went a little wide, the downturn of your lips ticking upwards, if only just. But he knew you, he knew you so well and the way you bit down on your lip, the way you looked at him from beneath your lashes - fuck - it sent his heart racing.

You took in each flower, each different shaped petal, the reds, the purples, the one shocking pass of pink in the middle, all wrapped in Eddie’s black and white bandana. You took them from the boy’s outstretched hand, eyes sweeping over the blush on his cheeks and nose, his soft brown eyes that looked so unsure. 

“I don’t really care about Valentine’s,” you said quietly, but Eddie heard the way your breath hitched.

“S’aright,” he drawled back just as softly, “I wanted to get you somethin’ anyway.”

There was a beat of silence, just for a second, maybe two, and Eddie wondered if you could hear his heartbeat, the way it rattled against his ribcage. Surely you could, he thought, it was the loudest thing in the room.

And then, he saw you melt. He watched it happen, the perpetual storm cloud that hung over you (the one he adored) lifted and your face turned softer, expression going a little gooey, just for him. Your eyes shone, lashes fluttering before they closed and you crushed the petals to your face, sniffing delicately before you grinned, trying your best to hide it amongst the flowers.

Eddie caught it anyway.

He tried not to look too smug as he lazed on your bed, shoes kicked off and left at the foot of it, an arm slung behind his head as he watched you arrange each bloom in your pretty blue vase. And when you were done, Eddie beamed at you and you rolled your eyes, fingers pressed to your cheeks to try and kill your own smile but it was an impossibility.

So you crawled up the length of him, clumsy with giddiness until you were settled on his lap with your legs either side of his hips. He let you press your hands over his chest, loving it when you got touchy like this, soft like butter, sweeter than honey for him. Eddie hummed when you skimmed them upupup until they were cradling his jaw, thumbs a soft press on his cheeks.

“No one’s ever got me flowers before,” you confessed and Eddie pouted at you even though inside he was cheering, a one man celebration that only he could hear.

“No?” he replied, “that’s a damn shame, sweetheart. D’you like them?”

A loaded question, the moment of truth, another heavy silence.

And then, relief. You nodded, uncharacteristically shy about it and Eddie beamed, pulling you down to him so he could kiss your cheek, your nose, the corner of your mouth. He caught your smile with his lips and it fizzed on his skin like cotton candy.