He stays with Eddie upon his release, because they’re together most days anyways, and it’s a certain kind of torture on Steve’s heart because Eddie’s started carrying around a notebook and a pen just to write to Steve whatever he was gonna say, and Steve doesn’t think he could love another person more than he did, but here’s the proof, apparently.

They’re sharing a bed, because Wayne had previously called their couch “older than Jesus,” and Steve lasted for all of an hour on it before slipping into Eddie’s room.

The good thing about sharing a room is it helps curb the nightmares for a time.

Eventually, though, they come back with a vengeance.

Steve’s laying in bed, like he does every night, when he rolls over to face Eddie. “Eddie?” He asks. Eddie’s always last to sleep, so Steve’s not hesitant about asking, except Eddie doesn’t answer.

“Eddie?” He asks again, jostling Eddie’s shoulder a bit.

Suddenly he shoots up in the air, and Steve bites back a yell.

Suddenly there’s a voice that sounds like it’s coming from everywhere and nowhere, reverberating off the corners of the room, echoing louder and louder. You took everything from me. Eddie’s arms snap, and Steve yells, scrambles up, music, except what’s his favorite song—that puppet one, metal, come on brain, think—but there’s nothing here but country, bluegrass, stuff Wayne likes, and Steve turns to watch the blood drain from Eddie’s face as another gristly crunch echoes, louder than anything so far. So I’ll take everything from you!

Something reaches out for him, grabs his shoulder, and he yells, twists around, pushes away, hard enough he falls on the ground. He opens his eyes to see Eddie on his bed, Steve sitting just off it, eyes wide and hand reaching to help, stalled halfway. Illuminated by the lamp, too, which wasn’t on half a second ago.

Steve blinks at him, looks at the room. No floating Eddie in the middle of it.

“Dream?” He asks. Eddie nods. He stifles the sob and practically launches himself onto the bed, into Eddie’s arms, lets himself shake apart because he can.

Eventually he feels reverberating in Eddie’s chest that he knows means words, means speaking, so he looks up at Eddie, who’s looking at the door.

He turns to look, too, and sees Wayne. “S-sorry,” he tries, still sniffling.

Wayne shakes his head at him, walks into the room, sits on the edge of the bed. Offers his arms out in a hug.

Steve thought he was done crying. Trust Wayne to prove him wrong, because he’s tearing up all over again as he leans into Wayne.

His new position means he can see Eddie, who points at him, makes a talking motion with his hand, then points at himself and Wayne. Steve frowns. “You… want me to tell you?”

Eddie points at Steve again, insistently, and Steve understands: your choice.

“I can,” he agrees. “We were in bed and I was tryin’a talk to you, but you didn’t answer, and I kept trying to get your attention, but suddenly you- you were up in the air, and your arms and legs broke, and a voice—it was Vecna, I didn’t recognize it in the dream—said I’d taken everything from him so he was gonna take everything from me. And I was trying to find music, but I couldn’t remember the name of your favorite song, and the only stuff in here was Wayne’s stuff, country and bluegrass and stuff like that, and…” he sighs out a broken sob. “I couldn’t save you.”

Eddie reaches for his hand, but suddenly that’s not enough, he needs to be able to feel his heartbeat, have his breathing move Steve’s hand, so he tips over into Eddie again, gets his hand on his chest and his face in the side of his neck.

Eddie says something, but before Steve can move Wayne’s got a comforting hand on his back. He removes it after a minute, and Steve can feel the shift in the bed of him getting up, but before he can mourn the loss, Eddie’s got his arms wrapped around Steve as he carefully lowers them back down. He rubs a hand up and down Steve’s spine, slips the other into Steve’s hair.

Steve falls asleep like that.

He wakes up in almost the same position. He tries to apologize, but Eddie waves him off, hands him some clothes and points to the bathroom before pointing to himself and miming cooking.

Steve’s heart clenches at the thought. “Okay,” he whispers.

Robin comes over later, and they sit on the front steps as he recounts what had happened. “He’s just so sweet,” he sighs. “And I’m an idiot who’s letting my heart get involved.”

Robin wraps an arm around his shoulders and kisses his temple. It doesn’t help as much as he’d hoped it would, but he appreciates the gesture anyways.

Later she leaves, and Eddie pulls out his dedicated Steve Notebook.

I’ve got a friend in Indy who knows sign language. I could give her a call, if you want? He writes, and again Steve’s all but overcome with love for this man.

Instead of anything he wants to do, he just nods. Eddie grins and hops up to use the phone.

He’s back in a couple of minutes, collapses onto the couch with the notebook before furiously scribbling and handing it to Steve.

I spoke to my friend. She says sorry and it sucks, first of all. Steve snorts and nods. She’s willing to talk to you, get you started, maybe even get you some books. Does tomorrow work?

Steve gapes up at Eddie. “Tomorrow?”

Eddie nods and grins, then points at Steve in a gesture Steve knows has come to mean you decide.

“That would be great,” he says. “Seriously, I- thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie waves him off, but Steve can see the happy little blush on his cheeks.

They head out the next day. It’s probably twenty minutes into the drive, and even with Eddie sitting next to him in the driver’s seat, it feels lonely. He never realized how much he’d miss the sound of tires on asphalt. He wasn’t ever truly into music, like Eddie is, but he misses the radio. He misses the wind rushing past, the silence that’s possible to share when both people can hear-

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Eddie’s pulled over, a hand on his cheek and a concerned expression on his face. “Sorry,” he tries. Eddie shakes his head, presses his palm more firmly to Steve’s cheek. “Fuck,” he mutters. “‘S stupid. Just… felt alone. I dunno. There’s, like, a million little things you hear every day that you don’t think about, like the way your hands tap the steering wheel when you turn, or the way your clothes shift and rub against each other, and it’s all silent now, and there’s not even music, and-” he takes a deep, shaky breath. Lets it out as evenly as he can. “I just… felt really alone all of a sudden.”

Eddie brushes his thumb along Steve’s cheekbone as he thinks. Suddenly, he grins and moves his hand, shoving a tape into the deck and cranking the sound. He demonstratively puts his hand on the door. Steve laughs and does the same, gasping when he feels the vibrations of the song move through him. He can’t tell notes, but it’s something, and then Eddie carefully reaches for his hand, keeps his grip relaxed until Steve smiles at him and tightens his own fingers around Eddie’s. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Eddie smiles, nods, and gets back on the road.

They arrive at his friend’s apartment in no time, and Steve would be jealous at the length of the hug if Eddie didn’t immediately step back to grab Steve’s hand again. Based on his hand motions, he’s introducing Steve.

She asks Eddie something, and he turns bright red, pulling a strand of hair across his face as he glances at Steve before looking back at her and answering.

She invites them in, scribbles on a little chalkboard, and hands it to Steve with a smile. Hi, Steve! My name is Nicole. It’s nice to meet you.

He grins up at her. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

She takes the chalkboard back, scribbles something else. Eddie tells me you recently lost your hearing. Do you mind me asking about that?

“Not at all,” Steve says, then frowns, somehow just now realizing he doesn’t know the full extent of what happened. “Honestly, all I know is I stood up and got really dizzy, and then I was waking up in the hospital.” He shrugs. “I’ve had a couple of pretty bad concussions, and I guess whatever made me pass out also just… took my hearing.” He shrugs.

Eddie shakes his head, grabs for the chalkboard. Almost. He bites his lip. You passed out, and I wasn’t fast enough. You hit your head on the floor. He looks away, takes a deep breath. I’m sorry.

“That is not your fault, Eds,” Steve tells him firmly. Eddie won’t look him in the eyes, so Steve grabs his chin. “Hey, look at me. Not your fault. I don’t blame you. Okay?”

Eddie shrugs, pointing to himself with a self-deprecating smile, and Steve knows what he’s trying to say. I do.

“Well I don’t,” Steve says. “But if- if you need to hear it. I forgive you, okay?”

Eddie nods, eyes big and wet, and Steve pulls him into a hug.

Eddie suddenly laughs, pulling away to wipe his eyes before saying something to Nicole.

Right. They’re not alone. “Sorry,” he tells her, but she waves him off, handing over the chalkboard again. I think we’ll start on the alphabet today. That way you can at least finger spell what you need, even if it’s slow.

“Sounds good,” he says, and she nods, talking the chalkboard to write the alphabet.

Slowly but surely, she teaches Steve and Eddie the alphabet. They get a little tripped up on some of the letters, most noticeably p and q, until Nicole takes pity on them and makes a p. She uses her other hand to draw a line down both her extended fingers, then tracing her own legs. She taps her thumb, peeking out between the two, and with a mischievous grin, points between Steve and Eddie’s legs.

They share a look and burst out laughing, but they don’t forget those letters again.

By the end of the day, they’ve gotten through the alphabet with enough regularity that Nicole feels they can practice on each other.

Steve pauses before they leave. T-h-a-n-k, then a pause, then y-o-u.

Nicole smiles, presses her fingertips to her lips, then brings her hand down to chest height, palm up. She does the motion again, and Steve copies her, grinning when she nods excitedly.

“Thank you,” he signs and says, grinning even wider when she pulls him into a quick hug before waving at him and Eddie.

They wave back and pile into the van, Steve’s hand in Eddie’s before Steve can practically blink. He smiles, unbearably fond, and squeezes to get his attention before signing, “Thank you.”

Eddie just smiles back, throws the van into reverse, and starts home. 

They practice more while they make dinner, throwing words like spatula and stir and chop around, and Steve didn’t realize learning could be this fun.

He’s watching Eddie stir the broth, hips moving in a little dance to a song only Eddie knows, and his heart is so full, he has to say something before his heart bursts. “I’m gonna say something that’s gonna sound incredibly sappy,” he says. “But just… please just listen until the end? And try not to tease me too much.”

Eddie just smiles, grabs his hand and squeezes, and Steve takes a breath before starting.

“I’m glad it’s you. I’m glad you were there that day, I’m glad you were there when I woke up at the hospital, I’m glad you were there when I realized going home meant being completely alone. I’m glad you made a complete fool of yourself in the hospital lobby, doing charades to let me know I could stay here.” He takes a breath. “I’m glad you have Nicole, because it lets me talk with you easier. I’m glad you never once let me feel like I’m alone, or like I’m going through this alone. I’m glad you’re learning with me. I’m glad you’re making this fun. I didn’t know learning could be fun, but it is with you, and I-” he takes a breath, swallows the three words that want to come out. “I’m glad it’s you,” Steve whispers, “here, at the end of all things.”

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Eddie’s hands are cradling his cheeks, wiping away tears. Eddie’s just as teary-eyed, though, and he pulls away, looking for the notebook. Please don’t punch me.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed, to watch Eddie spell something. I l-o-v-

That’s as far as he gets before Steve gasps, understanding, or hoping he understands, and pulls Eddie into a kiss.

He pulls back almost immediately to check that’s correct, that that is what Eddie was trying to say, when Eddie pulls him back in, dinner be damned, crowding him in against the counter and doing his best to lick into Steve’s mouth.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him. 

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club. 

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough. 

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring. 

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club. 

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away. 

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

When Steve finally unpicked the mess of feelings he had for Eddie and saw it for what it really was, love, he’d run from it. Not because Eddie was a guy, though Steve would be lying if he’d said that hadn’t surprised him. That hadn’t been what had shaken him. For Steve Harrington, love always ended badly. He wanted Eddie to stick around, so he’d been avoiding him, contradictory as it was. 

The girl slept with the radio on because she couldn’t stand the silence. It was something she and Steve had in common. She’d fallen asleep hours before. He’d been listening to rock ballad after rock ballad, his mood growing ever the more sour because of it. He ground his teeth and clutched the sheets as Freddie Mercury’s lyrics mirrored his internal dialogue. Cheesy as it sounded, all he wanted at that moment was somebody to love. 

His heart in his chest pounded like it did in the last quarter of his championship game or in the moments before he was about to break his swimming PB. He remembered the same feeling washing over him as a child when he heard his father’s footfalls on the steps as he arrived home from an overseas trip. He’d crawl under the bed, count to one hundred and wait for the thunderstorm in his chest to settle. He was having a panic attack. 

Steve leapt out of bed without thinking, shook the girl's shoulder and told her he was leaving. He didn’t hear her response. 

Steve didn’t know how he got to Robin’s house, but he found himself at her door pounding on the knocker despite the late hour, trying to come up with a way to make it up to Mr and Mrs Buckley for waking them up at an ungodly hour. The house remained silent. No one answered the door. 

Shit. Robin and her family were in Michigan for her grandmother’s birthday. Steve knew that. Still, when his life felt like it was going to shit, he went to Robin. He didn’t know what to do without her. 

He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. Robin was better. If she were there, she’d be able to tell Steve what he was thinking, but she wasn’t. He was alone. He’d have to work it out for himself. 

He sat on the Buckley’s front stoop, pulled his knees to his chest and tried to understand why he felt like someone was crushing his ribs with a hydraulic press. He was overcome with an onslaught of conflicting emotions. Wanting. Shame for wanting. Irritation at the shame. Indignation at the conflicting soup of sensations that rose, fell and mingled within him. He felt like he was going to puke, but nothing happened. More than anything else, he didn’t want to be alone. For once, he didn’t want to be with a stranger, either. 

He pulled himself together for long enough to drive to the trailer park. He cut his headlights at the turnoff and navigated the dirt road to the Munson’s trailer blind. He didn’t hop out of the car. The digital clock let him know it was three in the morning. The lights were still on in the trailer, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to get out of the BMW. He’d been avoiding Eddie. He needed to turn around and go home, but he couldn’t. 

Steve’s shallow breaths fogged the windows of the Beamer, turning the world outside into a haze of light and darkness. He had no idea what he was doing. 

The wrapping of knuckles against the car door made Steve jump so high his knees collided with the steering wheel. Eddie’s blurry visage appeared on the other side of the glass, his hands cupped around his eyes, the facsimile of binoculars as he peered in jokingly at Steve. Something in Steve’s face wiped the smirk from Eddie’s. He opened the driver’s door and crouched back on his haunches so he and Steve were face to face, his wide brown eyes raking over Steve’s body, searching for something in the features. 

“Did something happen?” Eddie asked in place of a ‘hello’. 

Steve wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find the right words, hell he couldn’t find any words. He managed to shake his head and let his vision drop to his lap. 

Eddie moved closer, but Steve pulled back. It was a knee-jerk response he’d built up in their time apart. Don’t let Eddie get too close. Then he’ll never know. Eddie bit his lip and shrugged off his jacket. It wasn’t the same one he’d given Steve months before. That one was past the point of no return, but it felt like a mirrored memory. He held it out to Steve. When the boy gave the fabric a perplexed look Eddie rolled his eyes and whispered. 

“For your modesty, dude. Remember?” Eddie vaguely gestured in Steve’s direction. He realised he hadn’t bothered to get dressed. He sat there in nothing but his underwear. Yeah. Great move, Harrington. 

“You wanna come in?” Eddie asked, backing away, giving Steve his space. 

“Okay,” Steve replied, proud he’d managed to do something other than gawk. He pulled Eddie’s jacket tightly around his body and let himself be led into the Munsons’ living room. 

Steve collapsed on the faded couch, placing one of the cushions in his lap, feeling suddenly aware of his lack of clothes and the chill in the air. At least his breathing was back to normal. That was something. The whole place smelled of cigarettes. Steve inhaled deeply.

Eddie busied himself in the kitchen, grabbing two mugs from Wayne’s collection. Of course, Eddie grabbed the stupid Garfield mug, which Steve knew was his favourite. He gave Steve a new mug each time he was over. Sometimes they’d brandish names of nowhere towns or fast-food chains, and other times it’d be some niche pop culture memorabilia. That night, he placed the ‘My Little Pony’ mug, complete with its baby pink handle and faded rainbow, usually reserved for Dustin, in Steve’s hand. 

He drank deeply. It was hot chocolate. Eddie sat beside him. His body was close, but not close enough to touch. Eddie was warm. 

“You want to talk about it?” Eddie asked, rolling his head across the back of the couch, his eyes never quite meeting Steve’s. 

“Not yet,” Steve reasoned. Not tonight. It wasn’t the night for confessions. He didn’t want to lose Eddie, not yet. 

“You hungry?” Steve hadn’t realised he was until Eddie asked.

“Starving,” He confessed, not looking up to meet Eddie’s gaze. 

The warmth at his side was gone for an instant. Once more there was a rattle from the kitchen. Steve’s fingers absentmindedly traced the mug’s faded rainbow.

“You’re not going to puke are you Stevie? You look a little green around the gills,” Eddie called over his shoulder. Steve shook his head. 

“Are we okay, Steve?” Eddie asked after a moment, his voice hesitant. 

When Steve looked up, Eddie wasn’t looking at him. He was busy digging through the pantry. Maybe he’d needed to ask the question when his back was turned. The former king had never heard the boy sound so small. 

Steve was busy working out how to reply when Eddie ploughed on.

“Because a week ago you just dropped off the edge of the map, dude. I saw you every goddamn day, twice a day, for months, then nothing. And then you show up out of the blue, in the middle of the night, in your underwear, looking like Vecna’s come back for round two. You’re not giving me much to go off here, so I’ve gotta ask. Are we good? Did I do something wrong?” Eddie spoke in a flurry, never turning to face Steve. Nevertheless, Steve saw right through him. He’d screwed things up already, hadn’t he? 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I did something wrong,” Steve spoke, admitting more than he’d intended. 

Eddie finally turned to face him, a cereal box in one hand and a perplexed look on his face. He looked like he wanted to push for more, but understood Steve was seconds away from turning and running. 

The boy returned to Steve’s side, flopping gracelessly onto the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. He handed Steve the box and watched as the boy eyed it cautiously. 

“I know it’s no breakfast bagel, but we haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks. It’s the best we’ve got.”

Steve Harrington was used to living his life in a particular way. He’d always had to be put together, well-mannered, and the kind of kid his parents would be proud of. All that to say, Steve had never eaten cereal out of the box with his hands. It felt odd and primal in a way he hadn’t anticipated.  

“How’d you know about the breakfast bagels?” 

He hadn’t eaten breakfast bagels since high school. Without swim training every morning, he had time to cook himself actual food, something more variable than his old faithful breakfast bagel. Maybe Eddie had been talking to Robin. 

“I just... I noticed you sometimes, back in high school. We had a few classes together and you were kind of a big deal, you know, Harrington,” Steve looked down, a knot growing in his stomach. 

He passed the cereal over to Eddie and watched the boy’s hands plunge into the depths of the box. He ate unabashedly, open-mouthed. Steve should’ve found it disgusting. He didn’t. He had it bad. 

“You couldn’t do anything wrong when it comes to you and me. You know that, right?” Eddie asked after a moment, returning to the subject Steve was desperately retreating from. 

“You don’t know what it is yet. If you did...” Steve’s throat seized up. He remembered another night, with Robin in a bathroom stall. The details were fuzzy, hazed over by drugs, but the words came back to him now. Robin’s words in his mouth. Robin’s words, seconds before she came out. Steve had told himself he wasn’t doing that, not tonight, yet here he was. 

“You wouldn’t want to be my friend.” Eddie’s brows drew together, seeming to understand the enormity of the situation. He swallowed thickly, squared off his shoulders and looked Steve dead in the eye.

“Try me,” He breathed. All bravado. Steve noticed a tremble in his voice. 

Now or never. He’d have to rip the damn band-aid off. 

“I came here because I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to be next to anyone but you,” the words gushed from Steve’s lips. As soon as they were out, he wanted to take them back. 

He didn’t look at Eddie, couldn’t look at him, though he noticed a flurry of movement as his leg bounced up and down rapidly, all nervous energy. It wasn’t as though Steve and Eddie hadn’t slept beside each other before, but this was different. Eddie had to know what Steve meant. When it came to his feelings, he was always so damn transparent. 

“I stopped hanging out with you because I didn’t want you to know...” The words stuck in Steve’s throat. He turned his eyes skyward, wishing for some kind of divine intervention, maybe another apocalypse, anything to stop him from having to admit it. 

“Steve,” Eddie breathed, imploring the boy to look at him through tone alone. Despite his better judgment, Steve did. 

Eddie’s brown eyes were open, his face the picture of sympathy and understanding. Steve didn’t want it. He gritted his teeth and returned his eyes to his hands. 

“Steve... you know I’m gay, right?” Eddie said, his hand appearing on Steve’s knee, giving it a squeeze. He hadn’t, but then again, it wasn’t as big a surprise as it should be. 

“No, but...you know, the last two people I loved didn’t love me back. Even if you do like guys, my track record is pretty shit,” Steve reasoned, then realised what he’d said as Eddie’s hand tightened on his knee. 

“Shit. I didn’t mean that. Well- I did, but... that’s intense. Right? Too intense,” Steve rambled, wondering if Robin was rubbing off on him. He still couldn’t meet Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie’s hand brushed Steve’s cheek, startling the boy and causing him to look over once more. Eddie didn’t look freaked out or disgusted, as Steve had worried he was. He didn’t look pitying either, as Robin had on the floor of the bathroom when he’d confessed to her. If anything, Eddie looked relieved. 

“You know Steve, ‘intense’ is one of my favourite adjectives. You think I dance around on tables because of my quiet and well-adjusted demeanour? If you asked someone to describe me,  the word ‘intense’ is going to come up. Not to mention I’ve been nursing a crush on you since my first go at senior year with your stupid floppy hair and you’re too-tight basketball shorts."

“You never mentioned...” Steve’s voice was drowned out by Eddie’s snort. 

“Of course, I didn’t. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell you liked me back and it was-”

“Intense,” Steve finished with a wry smile. Eddie nodded, too enthusiastically, his face suddenly very close to Steve’s. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Eddie breathed, pausing for a second to check if it was okay with Steve.