It's then that Eddie turns his gaze away from Steve to look at him, the light never fading from his eyes and the smile never wiping from his face.

Steve's sitting on the trailer floor, in the middle of the living room, Eddie's clothes hanging from his body as he flips through one of Eddie's many monster manuals. Wayne knows the boy would never admit it, but he's just as interested in D&D as the other kids. He's helping Eddie plan his next campaign for christ sake.

Eddie and Wayne Munson energy

First of all I’m laughing so much rn and second of all idk if you wanted a headcanon thing for this but something popped into my head anyway

Steve watched as Wayne made himself comfortable at a corner table, still close to the stage, but away from the crowd piling up against the stage.

Everyone here was dressed like Eddie, some even more intimidating, and Steve felt out of place.

Wayne, in all his Midwest plaid glory, seemed perfectly content.

“How are you so comfortable here? We look like two people who got lost on their way to see Bruce Springsteen.”

Wayne snorted a laugh and took a sip from his beer.

“Just used to being out of place by now. Been to enough of his shows, I just realized I’m here for him, not to impress anyone.”

“It’s still intimidating, though.”

“The first couple times, yeah. You’ll get used to it.”

“Could use a drink.”

Steve meant to keep that inside, but Wayne laughed, and Steve couldn’t help the smile widening across his face.

“Birthday’s soon, right son?”

Steve blushed at being called ‘son.’

“Yes, sir.”

“Next show I’ll buy ya a drink, help settle the nerves.”

“I’m not nervous!”

Wayne gave him a look and he sighed.

“Okay I’m nervous. But I just don’t want Eddie to be ashamed of me being here for him. I’m not exactly the metal crowd type.”

“And he likes ya just fine, I’d say. He ain’t kicked me out of these shows yet, so I doubt he’d ever keep you away.”

The lights dimmed further, and there was movement on the stage.

Wayne let out a little laugh when Steve perked up.

“What?”

“Nothin’. You’re just gonna wish you’d brought those ear plugs.”

T| WC 1k | Steddie | Uncle Wayne POV

"You love him don't you?" Wayne whispers, breathy, quiet, his voice cracking around the edges of something that feels like raw emotion.

It's then that Eddie turns his gaze away from Steve to look at him, the light never fading from his eyes and the smile never wiping from his face.

Steve's sitting on the trailer floor, in the middle of the living room, Eddie's clothes hanging from his body as he flips through one of Eddie's many monster manuals. Wayne knows the boy would never admit it, but he's just as interested in D&D as the other kids. He's helping Eddie plan his next campaign for christ sake.

Next to Wayne, two cans of coke in hand and a love struck smile on his face, Eddie nods, his cheeks darkening as his smile ever so slightly fades. "Is that okay?" He asks, looking all the bit nervous as his eyes roam Wayne's face.

"More than okay, Son."

Steddie Fic | Wayne POV | Little_Annie | Ao3

---

"You love him don't you?" Wayne whispers, breathy, quiet, his voice cracking around the edges of something that feels like raw emotion.

It's then that Eddie turns his gaze away from Steve to look at him, the light never fading from his eyes and the smile never wiping from his face.

Steve's sitting on the trailer floor, in the middle of the living room, Eddie's clothes hanging from his body as he flips through one of Eddie's many monster manuals. Wayne knows the boy would never admit it, but he's just as interested in D&D as the other kids. He's helping Eddie plan his next campaign for christ sake.

Next to Wayne, two cans of coke in hand and a love struck smile on his face, Eddie nods, his cheeks darkening as his smile ever so slightly fades. "Is that okay?" He asks, looking all the bit nervous as his eyes roam Wayne's face.

"More than okay Son."

Eddie's smile brightens once again and if Wayne notices the small amount of tears welling in his eyes, he says nothing about.

"You ever going to tell him?" Wayne continues, nodding in Steve's direction, the boy still oblivious to the conversation being whispered behind his back.

"I don't know if I can."

Wayne says nothing to Eddie's reply as he watches the boy return to the living room where he sits down next to his best friend. Steve smiling bright as the sun upon Eddie's return.

—

Months go by and Wayne gets to watch as Steve falls too. It's there and so obvious to anyone but Eddie.

His eyes linger and his smile never fades. Soon Wayne sees as he sits a little closer and his cheeks grow a little darker.

There's moments when Wayne catches what he can only describe as a love struck expression across Steve's face. Eddie's talking, because when is he not, and Steve's there, eyes wide and locked onto Eddie's ever changing expression. 

He looks fond. Fond in a way Wayne's never seen anyone look at his nephew.

There's moments when he sees Steve hesitant. Moments when he and Eddie are so close and Steve's hand twitches like it wants to reach out. Moments when Steve looks like he wants to lean in but bites his lip and turns away with rosy cheeks.

—

It's nearly a year into their friendship when Steve's standing at Wayne's side and whispers, "I think I love him."

"Tell him," Wayne answers easily, leaving out the 'please' he so desperately wants to tack onto the end of that sentence.

Please, he thinks again as he watches Eddie turn to face them from across the yard, a smile so beautiful Wayne thinks it's the first time he's seen it on Eddie's face. The boy's elbow deep in his van as his cheeks grow a little pinker as he says with a smile, "Stevie come here for a sec."

Steve leaves, but not before whispering back to Wayne, "I think I will."

—

No more than a week later Wayne comes home to find the boys on the couch, Steve sleeping and curled into Eddie's side, snoring with his nose pressed to Eddie's neck. 

Wayne offers his boy a smile as he stirs from the sound of the door closing. He looks tired, arms tightening around Steve's waist as he smiles back and burrows closer, kissing the top of Steve's head before drifting back off. 

—

"He loves me," Eddie says one evening, weeks down the road, a rare occasion when Steve isn't over and Eddie's actually home.

Wayne smiles, his heart so warm and full as he says, "I know."

—

Steve's been over for a few weeks now. Part of Wayne's convinced he's moved in, what with the new additions to their fridge and bathroom vanity. The idea doesn't upset him in the least. 

He's gotten to witness their love grow during that time anyway.

He's gotten to witness the way Steve kisses a grumpy Eddie good morning until he finally smiles.

Or the way Eddie lights up when Steve's arms wrap around his waist and he whispers an "I love you Eds," that Wayne isn't sure if he's supposed to hear.

Or the way they giggle and kiss and love one another in such a beautiful and uninhibited way.

Granted too, sometimes that means Wayne's hears a bit too much. Eddie would be mortified to know there's been far too many occasions in which Wayne's had to leave the trailer to escape the gasping breaths that occasionally pour out from under his bedroom door.

Though this time, Wayne's inside as the boys are on the roof smoking and he thanks the lord above that all he can hear are the faintest of whispers. 

There's only parts of the conversation that he catches, but his heart swells when he hears Eddie's voice so clearly say, "I'm gonna marry you someday Steve Harrington."

—

Wayne cries the day Eddie shows him the ring. 

And cries even harder when Steve shows him his.

Steve's hand is shaking where the single golden band lies on his ring finger, Eddie standing directly behind him, arm around his waist with a smile that matches Steve's in the way it resembles Sunshine.

They can't marry, not legally anyways. But that doesn't stop Jim Hopper from officiating a ceremony or Joyce Byers from walking Steve down the aisle. 

The backyard to Hoppers cabin is filled with faces Wayne has grown familiar with over the years. Young and old, smiling and crying all the same.

Dustin and Robin both write speeches, both as rambling and as funny as they are beautifully heart wrenching.

There's not a dry eye in the house.

—

The boys move into an apartment where they build a life together.

Wayne visits often for meals or a cup of coffee in the mornings, still delighting in the way his Eddie seems so wonderfully overcome with love and affection. 

He'd thought he'd shed enough tears for his lifetime at the wedding, but one evening, sat at the table with Robin Buckley and his boys, Wayne finds out he's gonna be a grandpa. 

Elaine Birdie Munson is her name.

Sunshine, they call her instead.

---

Ao3⤵️

Steddie Fic | Little_Annie | Ao3

Chapter two in the link ⤵️

Eddie had been home for a little less than a month. Doing what? Steve didn't know. Not as much as he'd like to anyways. It's not like he could keep up his gatherings or calls with Wayne, not with Eddie back to living in the trailer. On the rare occasion that Wayne was home while Eddie was at school and Steve wasn't working or volunteering to distract himself, then yeah they could get together or at the very least Wayne would call with an update but recently those updates were few and far between.

Delivering care packages through town and volunteering at some of the remaining relief shelters provided some solace, be it a veil of illusion or not but that was short lived anyways, Hawkins recovering in record time and Steve's own energy levels dwindling. Grief does that to a person he's discovered.

Oftentimes in idle moments between work and chats with Wayne he found himself in the same spot he'd remain for months to follow. Sulking in his bed, wishing things could've been different. More times than not it was accompanied by the quiet hum of Eddie's cassettes and the lingering comfort the man's clothes held as they draped over his figure.

It'd only been maybe a handful of times that he'd seen Robin or Dustin. On all accounts it was thanks to their own persistence. Robin climbing through the window of the kitchen, falling rather unceremoniously to the linoleum floor with a huff or Dustin's incessant knocking.

He hadn't meant to shut everyone out, but he couldn't handle the reminders of Eddie that clung to them. Especially Dustin. It was heartbreaking to see him and watch him grieve in the same way Steve only could behind closed doors. But it was in those times that he'd realise it wasn't only him who'd lost Eddie. Dustin was beside himself and as unfortunate as that may be, it only helped to add to Steve's plan.

After his most recent call with Wayne, whispered words through the line before Eddie got home from band practice, they had a solid plan. Well the start of one anyway. But it was something nonetheless and goddammit did Steve hope it'd work.

-

It's with a flimsy idea of a plan, high hopes and Dustin Henderson at his side, that Steve was currently lingering in the grocery store, knowing Eddie to hopefully show his face as per his earlier conversation with Wayne.

Though Dustin didn't know the full gist of the plan, he knew the idea was to win over Eddie once again, be it for the sake of himself and Hellfire and not one sad and grieving Steve Harrington.

They were in the cereal aisle, Steve behind the cart and Dustin at his side, the kid being uncharacteristically quiet with a worrying expression on his face, though he'd try and mask it anytime he actually did speak.

Weird Al shirt and a gummy grin, the kid tosses a box of Honeycomb cereal into the cart with an annoying clang, "You sure about this?" He asks

"No," Steve simply states, because he's really not sure about this. Not just the plan, but his capabilities on remaining normal for the moments to come. He hasn't seen Eddie in over a month and his heart aches for the man. He's not sure he can restrain himself from tackling Eddie in a flurry of kisses in the middle of the grocery store.

Well, that, or having an absolute breakdown.

"Oh, well that's great Steve," Dustin sneers, all attitude, "really convincing. Great pep talk."

But before Steve can retort he hears the familiar stomp of combat boots, jingle of a chain and hum of a beautiful voice.

Eddie

Steve's heart hammers in his chest and suddenly everything around him fades. Dustin's still talking but Eddie's still humming, he knows it's him without a doubt, occasionally whispering the words to a song Steve only knows because it's one of Eddie's favourites. He's one aisle over but without even seeing Steve knows exactly where Eddie stops and reaches out for a case of Yoohoo with a childish smile on his face. He knows what Eddie does next before the sound of a metal cap snapping clips through the air. He can picture him, an open bottle of Yoohoo in hand, downing half the bottle before he tilts his head to the side and acts as if he's contemplating grabbing another case of six. And Steve knows he does.

A breath shudders from his chest, attention being pulled back to reality by a flick to the arm by Dustin as he hisses, "Act cool, if we're going to make friends with him we have to be cool."

Steve scoffs, looks down at Dustin's shirt, "Yeah, cuz' Weird Al's cool."

"You take that back." Dustin takes offence, a hand to his chest, mock gasp. Theatrics learned from the very man they're trying to win over.

"No." Steve shrugs, inching the cart forward, hoping to bump into Eddie at the end of the aisle.

"Obviously it's cool, Steve." Dustin scoffs, egregious, "Out of the two of us, only one is in a loving relationship and my friend," he pauses apparently for some effect, not knowing his words just crushed a sliver of Steve's heart, "-that one is not you."

Yeah it's not, Steve thinks to himself, Dustin's words kind of hitting him like a dagger to the heart. Yeah it's not. Steve Harrington, single, alone, unloved. Tears sting his eyes and he's all but winded when the handle of his cart jams in his gut with force.

"Shit man, I'm so-" the deep voice Steve's grown to know so well cuts off and he finds himself staring at its source. Silence in his breath, tears in his eyes, he can't bring himself to say anything even as Dustin's finger digs into his side and prompts him to say something, anything, but he can't. "Harrington." Eddie continues, almost breathless, his tone not as venomous as Steve expected it to be and as his eyes search the face of the man he loves, he can't help but notice the blush on his cheeks.

All Steve can manage is a pathetic nod, even as Dustin shoots him a glare.

"Sorry about my friend here," Dustin states, leaning forward to whisper, "he's gotten hit in the head a few too many times and sometimes it shows." Steve would scoff if he had the ability, but currently he doesn't so he lets Dustin take the reins, "Hey you're uh, you're the guy who runs Hellfire at Hawkins High right?"

Oh and to see Eddie's eyes light up, Steve's pretty sure his heart skips a beat or several.

"Yeah kid," Eddie beams, looking between Steve and Dustin before his smile grows wider, "you play?"

"Do I play, he says," Dustin huffs to himself with a smile, puffing his chest out with pride as he continues, "Eddie the Banished, the most diabolical DM on this side of Indiana's state lines, yes I do play and I assure you, I can beat any campaign you throw my way!"

While Dustin continues to boast about his skill and his character that Eddie himself helped create, Steve can't help but remain silent and watch the interaction unfold. Well that's until Eddie speaks and he realises Dustin's mistake.

"H-how'd you know my name?"

Dustin stammers, because yeah, in Eddie's mind they've never met before and there's no logical reason why some random kid grocery shopping with Steve Harrington would know his name.

While Dustin continues to flounder, Steve has no choice but to pull up his bootstraps, "I um," god, he thinks, it's hard to be so close and not be able to hold him, "I told him about you," he scratches the back of his neck, trying so damn hard to look Eddie in the eye without crying, "uh, we had third period English together last year."

"Oh," Eddie blushes further, cheeks darkening, a dimple beginning to dent his pink skin and Steve might melt right into the floor because fuck did he miss that.

With that thankfully Dustin regains some vigour, shooting his hand out to Eddie for a shake, "Dustin Henderson by the way!"

Eddie struggles to pull his eyes from Steve, eventually taking the kid's hand with a smile, formally introducing himself, "Eddie, Munson." His eyes flash to meet Steve's for a moment before his cheeks darken impossibly more, "If you ever wanna join a campaign kid we're always looking for new recruits. Meet Wednesdays at 4pm in the drama room of Hawkins High."

Dustin beams, Steve can see the excitement radiating from the kid, "Yeah?!" He nearly screeches with excitement, "I've got a few friends who play too, can I bring 'em with me?"

"The more the merrier kid." Eddie says as he flashes Steve a smile, forcing a blush to creep across his cheeks.

Dustin punches the air with a triumphant, "Fuck yeah!" Only to be instinctively pinched by Steve and scolded with a hissed, "Language."

—

Eddie's POV

Arriving back at the trailer, Eddie didn't quite know what to think. The burning in his heart for Steve Harrington seemed a little more aggressive than normal. Like yeah, the guy's hot, always has been. There's always been something magnetic about him. Has always been some sort of interest to him but today, at the grocery store, that was something different. He doesn't know how to quite explain it. He didn't feel his usual disdain for the man. It felt diluted, greatly so, like he'd rather smother the man with love than slap him for being equally parts douchey and painfully beautiful.

And that damn kid he had with him. Did Steve Harrington babysit? Babysit nerdy kids with gummy smiles and Weird Al shirts? Was that a fucking thing? Jesus Christ, if that fuckers good with kids that's just another nail in the coffin.

Dropping his groceries to the floor of the kitchen, paper bags and glass jars clambering on the linoleum, Eddie shouts through the trailer, "Uncle Wayne, I'm back!"

Shuffling down the hallway, Wayne appears, an indecipherable expression on his face, "How was grocery shopping kid?"

Had the wind knocked out of me by a beautiful man, Eddie thinks to himself

"Fuckin weird." He says instead, "Literally ran into Steve Harrington and some kid whom I'm assuming he babysits," he shakes his head, disgusted with himself over the fact that he's never really managed to get over the honey eyed jock, "cuz that's just fuckin peachy."

Wayne snorts, digging through the bags of groceries, "Ran into him eh? What, ya ram the poor boy with your cart or somethin'?"

"Yeah actually! And he's still too fuckin' pretty. I'm sure I was blushing like a damn fool." Eddie huffs, crouching down to help his uncle sort through the groceries.

"Oh so you're still in love with the boy?" Wayne asks, eyeing Eddie curiously, watching as he pulls a chunk of hair across his face to cover his blush, "What is it Ed, going on three years of a crush on that boy?"

"N-no. Not in love with the guy! He's just nice to look at, that's all." Eddie says the last words in a hushed tone, avoiding Wayne's knowing gaze while he shoulders past to put his chocolate milk in the fridge.

Whether Eddie wants to admit it or not, Wayne's no stranger to his long term crush on Steve Harrington. Yeah the guy's a douche, but there's always been something about him. Something Wayne would hear about while the other boy was still attending Hawkins High. 'Steve Harrington this, Steve's Harrington that, Steve Harrington's eyes and oh my god Wayne, Steve Harrington's ass in gym shorts, fuck I might actually have to start going to class.'

"Sure, sure boy." Wayne smiles, those past conversations running through his mind, "So, yous saying if the Harrington boy asked you out you'd say no?"

"I'm not dignifying that with an answer, old man." Eddie huffs again, still avoiding his Uncle's eye because that's not even possible, not in this realm of possibilities anyways. Steve Harrington asking Eddie Munson out? Yeah right. Why not dwell on that a little more and let his heart break for the relationship he'll never have.

Boys like Steve Harrington don't like other boys, let alone other boys like Eddie 'The Freak.' They don't like boys who come from the poverty line and broken homes, boys who listen to heavy music and protest society, boys who play fantasy games and reread the Hobbit several times a year.

Boys like Steve Harrington have a future ahead of them. White picket fences, a beautiful wife and a dozen well behaved kids. A job they hate but make enough money to keep them coming back. Expensive vacations and family trips. Looking down on people like Eddie and Wayne, sitting high on their thrones looking pretty as they spit on the peasants down below.

Boys like Eddie Munson are doomed for failure, doomed to fall through the cracks of the very society they hate; to be lost to the world. If not to be hate crimed or killed for who they love, then to fade into nothing, the memories of their past fading in the minds of those that once knew them. Boys like Eddie Munson live in a trailer park and end up in jail more times than they can count.

Boys like Eddie Munson aren't worth wanting.

"Sure, sure." Wayne's words interrupt his internal struggle, "He's a good kid I think. After the whole… uh… earthquake deal he was a big help in the community, fixin' up houses and delivering care packages to old folks and stuff."

"I'm sure he was just a knight in shining armour Wayne," Eddie half shouts, denying the possibility of Steve Harrington being a good guy, sneaking down the hall with a pack of smokes and a bottle of Yoohoo.

—

Steve's home now, ass sat on the couch, staring at a blank TV, liatening to the nothingness around him. He'd managed to bet the groceries put away and Dustin booted out on the Henderson front steps before making it home to wallow.

He's alone as usual, wearing one of Eddie's shirts yet again and trying not to cry. What's new?

But as he's sitting there wallowing in self pity the phone rings, an annoying wail coming from the kitchen. Everything in him wishes it was Eddie calling but he knows it's not. It probably never will be again.

Steve struggles to reach the phone but manages to peel himself off the couch and pick up the receiver just before the last ring.

Steve leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his stomach, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear, "Hello?" He says confused, voice cautious

"Hey Kid." A gruff voice comes from the other end of the line, deep and gravely

"Wayne?" He smiles, can't quite help it now, that man's like the father he never had and well, it helps that he's the only connection to Eddie that he has left, "How's he doing?"

Wayne chuckles from the other end of the line a rustling follows like the phone's shifting or the man's getting comfortable, "He's doing just fine… Listen boy I've only got a few minutes, Ed's over at the neighbours helping Miss Carlson bring in groceries. Just wanted to let you know it sounds like your plan's already workin'. Poor boy was blushin' talking about you when he got home from the store today."

Steve's stomach flips, a rush of hope flooding through his veins, "Was he?" He asks, almost breathless

"He sure was." Wayne says with a hint of a smile in his voice, "You know boy, he ever tell you he's had a nasty crush on you since his sophomore year?"

"No," Steve whispers, out of the months he'd spent with Eddie that hadn't actually come up. There was mention of a previous crush, but never something of such a great length. Maybe he has more of a chance winning his man back than he thought.

"Oops," Wayne huffs a laugh, "Well you ain't heard it from me, but ya know now and apparently," the man drolls with a chuckle, "he thinks you're painfully pretty."

Steve couldn't help but snort in response, that was something Eddie had told him often, 'Steve Harrington, you're so beautiful it hurts,' 'Stevie Sweetheart, you my love are a painfully pretty little thing.'

"Oh and kid,-" Wayne interjects, interrupting his train of thought, "-I forgot to mention, he doesn't remember the day he woke up. Says it's all blurry, thought I was the one who kissed him. Doesn't remember you being there at all. I suppose the drugs they had 'im on play a big part in that."

Thank God. That might make things a bit easier if Eddie doesn't remember him kissing him. Might make Steve out to not be as fucking crazy as it would if Eddie remembered the moment "The Hair" kissed "The Freak."

"Well that's a bit of a relief. Christ, at least he doesn't remember that." Steve chews his lip before sadness creeps back into his tone and he quietly says, "If only he remembered the last year though."

With a matching tone, Wayne sighs, "I know, kid. I- I know ya love him something fierce but there's nothing we can do about that now other than helping you win him over again."

Steddie | Little_Annie | Ao3

Chapter 3 ⤵️

Crimson ran red over his hands, seeping between his fingers and under his nails, red and hot, the very life-force that runs through his own veins. But it wasn't his. There was heat beneath his palms and the rasp of a fading breath shuddering under his fingertips. He pushed harder, bones and muscles aching with the force, a scream of a sob ripping through his own chest as he pressed firmly into the one beneath his hands.

It wouldn't stop. The blood, the screams, the lighting that began to blanket the atmosphere with an electric charge. Nothing could make it stop.

There were attempted cries of his name, hardly audible, gasping and garbling around liquid. The sound of wet sputters and chokes beating against his eardrums, Steve finally turned his head to find its source and there laid Eddie, mangled and dying, bloodied beyond recognition. 

Once porcelain skin, now the colour of ash and the reddest of wines. He was fading, the light in his eyes dimming by the second, washing away with the life in his veins, seeping into the blood stained ground beneath him.

Steve's hands were wet, soaked, trying and failing to hold in the blood flowing like a river through his fingers. Organs and tissues pressing into him with Eddie's attempts to breathe.

But he was failing.

The thunder of the Upside Down boomed around them, steady and heaving in the air. Steve's screams were lost to the chaos, leaving loud from his lips but falling silent to any ears that could possibly hear them. There was no one, no one to help him repair and patch the man beneath his fingertips, no one to console him in the rapidly approaching inevitable loss of love.

"S-s," Eddie attempted his name, the sounds lost to wet heaving breaths. He shakily moved a bloodied, mangled hand to Steve's cheek, smearing copper and the very source of his life over Steve's skin, staining like red wine on a trampled rug, marking him to forever remember this moment.

Steve's attention focused on the man beneath him, skin stained with blood and grime, raw, torn and bleeding. Shuddering and sobbing with the fear of approaching loss, he leaned down to press his forehead to Eddie's, but as their skin met and they shared the tangy air for a single breath, Steve felt a tightness around his ankle and in a blur he was dragged away. 

Eddie's body left him in a rush. The scrape of broken ground tearing the skin of his stomach and his palms while trying to pull himself away from the vines dragging him further away. With a whip-like crack they wrapped around his throat and pulled his body tight against an invisible force, sharp and painful, biting into his skin. 

He couldn't move

He couldn't scream

He couldn't help

He remained rooted in place, left to watch his love bleed out before him.

Never did he stop trying, pulling, screaming. Trying to rip his way out of the constriction he was being held in, every laboured breath growing shallower with his efforts. The tension on his neck never easing.

He screamed for Eddie, sharp, loud, its volume tearing at his vocal cords, then it was with a flash, bright, red, blinding that everything faded to black.

Steve woke with a start, a scream on his lips, everything around him grim and black, the lingering feeling of something tight around his neck causing his breath to be short.

He couldn't breathe.

There were flashes of Eddie, bloodied and dying in his hands. Red. Raw. Gasping around wet breathes for any air he could breathe.

Steve's nails dug into his palms, the pain doing little to ground him. His entire body racked with tremors, the bed shaking beneath him as he gulped for air, failing at every attempt.

Eddie's safe. Eddie's safe. Eddie's safe.

He kept trying to remind himself but it was of no use, the words remaining useless as he clutched his arms around his stomach, feeling the pain of the man he loved dying within his grasp. Every sucked in breath forcing his shaking chest to shudder and heave with every unsuccessful gasp.

It was with the phantom feeling of vines around his ankles that Steve kicked at the blankets he'd tangled himself into. Wailing, sobbing around shallow breaths.

The phantom feeling around his neck only worsened as he continued to struggle to breathe. In his daze he clawed at the raised and still healing wound around his neck, the razor sharp tails of Demobat's leaving an ever lasting reminder and one that paired all too well with his night terrors.

It was nights like these, gasped breaths and piercing screams, Russians and Demogorgans pulling him limb from limb that Eddie used to be there. There to hold Steve and soothe him, comfort him with whispered words and an intentional touch. There to card his fingers through Steve's hair and kiss the sweat damp hair on his head.

The hardly lucid part of Steve's brain remembered this, the touches, the words, the gentle kisses. Eddie could make it better. Eddie.

Eddie.

An ache in his chest for more reasons than one, Steve found himself on auto pilot. Stumbling through the house, struggling to suck in a breath, somehow making it down the stairs unscathed. Breathing short and heart ready to break free, he was suddenly in the kitchen, hand reaching for the phone, pulling it off the hook to hold the receiver against his chest and dial an all too familiar number.

Eddie could make it better.

It's only when a sleep-worn, deep voice speaks a grumbled 'Hello?' into the other end of the line that Steve feels a jolt of reality. And it's not pretty. 

A sob tears through his chest so aggressively that it levels him, a shuddering breath ripping through his lungs and scratching at his vocal cords. He can't bear to stand, his already shaky legs giving out from beneath him, dropping him to the ground with bruising force. 

Eddie speaks into the phone again, sounding tired and irritated, though Steve hardly hears it through the pounding in his ears and aching in his heart.

"Hello? …. I swear to fuck if this is another prank call…"

Steve wishes he could say something, anything but as he tries to suck in a breath and will his fucking brain to work, the line clicks and a dead tone rings in his ear.

And he's alone. Again.

His breath only hastens, tears clouding his vision while he clutches the phone so tightly the plastic sounds like it's cracking in his grasp. His entire body is shaky, fingers, legs, the muscles in his stomach, only worsening with each attempted breath.

It's not even a thought when he dials again, body running on its own accord, knowing what it needs to save itself.

Eddie.

It's with a single ring left that Eddie answers, sounding nothing less than pissed off, "What?" He growls into the other end of the line

But Steve's still speechless aside from his shuddered breaths and the chattering of his teeth.

But then he hears another voice, not much unlike the other, only rougher, older, aged by a lifetime of cigarettes and strong liquor. It's faint, in the background, "What's going on Ed? It's fuckin' three in the mornin'."

Eddie huffs and Steve can only bring himself to listen, any form of the man's voice easing one of the many pains in his chest, "Some asshole keeps callin'."

There's an indecipherable grumble in the distance, shuffling and a nearer, "Let me talk to 'em." from Wayne and then there's a gruff, "The fuck do you want?" growled into the line. It's hardly recognizable, a voice nearing on threatening, Steve's never known Wayne to sound like that.

But even the sound of the older man's angered voice helps and his shoulders ease at the familiarity.

Though he struggles to speak, breath still coming short, Steve manages a choked out, "W-wayne."

There's a release of breath that rattles against Steve's ear, the rustling of fabric and the clang of a trailer door shutting that follows. The line remains silent for a moment and then it's with a sincere, concerned tone that Wayne speaks, "Steve, son, you okay?"

Pinching his eyes shut, trying to still his breath, Steve pulls his knees to his chest, a sad whimper escaping his lips while he can only manage a quiet whisper, "Eddie?"

And Wayne knows, he knows how to deal with Steve in these situations, maybe not as much as Eddie does, -did- but he's seen it enough to know what Steve needs to hear.

"Eddie's okay," Wayne starts, voice calm, "He's alive and breathin' just fine. He's with me, safe, alive, laying in his bed probably already snorin' like a freight train again." There's a pause, the sound of a lighter, then Wayne inhales deeply, "You need to breathe boy. In for three, come on, hold, out for three." 

Wayne repeats his words until he can hear Steve's steadying breath, "Good job kid." He huffs quietly into the line 

Steve breathes for three beats again, his bones aching as his trembling body ever so slightly relaxes and Wayne continues, "I need you to name some of the things you see son. Whatcha lookin at?"

Out for three. Hold.

"T-the floor." Steve says, saying the first thing he opens his eyes to

"Okay, what else?"

In for three. Hold.

Steve grits his teeth, grip loosening around his body, looking at the crescents he left pressed into his palms only moments ago, "My, uh, my hands."

"And?"

It's then that Steve notices the shirt he's wearing. Fuck.

In for three. Hold.

Out for three. Hold.

In for three. Hold.

Out for three. Hold.

His chest heaves and he chokes back a sob as he whispers, "Ed- Eds - Eddie's shirt."

A sad sound escapes Wayne and he's quiet for a moment, the sound of a cigarette burning being the only sound in Steve's ear.

A huffed breath shortly follows and Wayne solemnly whispers, "You guys 'ill be alright, kid." 

Steve sighs, too exhausted to form a response. He's okay now, well kinda anyway, a little jittery, a lot tired, sore, and doesn't plan on moving from his current position for the foreseeable future. But he's not sure he agrees with Wayne. 

They sit there in silence for a while, breathing together, Wayne sucking back a cigarette while Steve rubs a thumb over the indents branded into his hand. 

After a moment Wayne clears his throat, "You uh, you wanna tell 'em good night?"

Steve shrugs to him while Wayne elaborates, "I'll just poke the phone into his room if he's sleepin' an' you can tell him whatever you want, 'kay?"

"Sure," Steve manages with a sad sigh, shuffling around to get comfier, slouching against the wall, letting his legs fall flat to the floor.

There's more rustling on the other end of the call, the sound of the trailer's door clicking shut, then light, uneven footsteps followed by the familiar creak of Eddie's bedroom door. Wayne speaks in the distance, whispered, quiet, "Ed, son, you still up?"

And to Steve's ear he hears nothing.

It's only a moment later that Wayne's hushed voice whispers against his ear, "'kay boy, just give me a second to sneak the phone 'round the door."

Steve counts to three, his mind a panicked wash of all the things he wishes to say to Eddie. How much he misses him, how often he thinks of him, how every waking moment of his life is spent reminiscing what they once had not long ago. That he sleeps with his shirts on, keeps one hidden beneath his pillow to hold at night and bury his nose in when the pain of grief is too much to bear. That he can't look at his own bed, his own house, his own Goddamn reflection without thinking about him. Without feeling that gaping hole in his heart where Eddie Munson once resided. 

But instead he whispers, quiet, nervous for Eddie to actually hear him, "I love you Eds."

---