What Am I Doing?

“Hey, man, budge up.” Group gatherings had become the norm after the last showdown. They used to go their own way, pairing off and convening in small groups in the aftermath of interdimensional horrors, but this time has been different. It had been so human. Something about it made them draw close in ways they hadn’t before.

With Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler out of town for the weekend, it was a no-brainer that they would all convene over the long weekend, people flowing in and out of the door, including Eddie Munson, Steve’s new shadow.

The younger man moved his feet, making room for Eddie to ease himself onto the cushions, resting his cane on the arm of the couch. Steve had been on his own, flipping absently through a magazine as people gathered in the kitchen.

He didn’t want to be “broody,” as Robin put it, but it had started to become suffocating, all that talking. They had been debating the merits of going into town next week, and while the beamer was no doubt going to be one of the vehicles in use, he knew his input wasn’t needed.

He had even been feeling brave when he first got there. Surely, this was a conversation he could participate in. It was just about driving. Steve was good at driving. He drove those snot-nosed kids all around town.

But as soon as he’d opened his mouth, Dustin had said something about “navigational skills” that set his teeth on edge. He’d proven to the little twerp more than once that his directional skills were more than up to par, but he didn’t feel like fighting against that tone today. It wasn’t like it would change his mind.

Nancy gave him one of those tight lipped smiles that meant he wouldn’t find any help in her corner, and Lucas just shrugged, taking another swig from his can of Coke. He rolled his eyes, but took the hint.

“Whatcha got there, Steve-o?” Eddie asked, a slightly shaky arm bringing his hand up to tap on the cover. The muscles were still weak, but he was making good progress. Steve couldn’t help but blush. Sports Illustrated wasn’t exactly high art.

“Nothing much. Just ‘balls in laundry baskets,” he said, calling back to Eddie’s many high school tirades. He expected the other man to laugh and agree, but to his surprise, he didn’t.

“Now, now, now, Stevie. I will have you know that I have recently been educated on the occasional merit of the great sports ball. I wouldn’t be so quick to knock it.” And if that didn’t knock his socks off, nothing would.

And so the night went. Steve talked about sports. Eddie egged him on. And no one asked his opinion on their trip to Indianapolis.

—---

Summer came all at once in Hawkins, just like it did every year. Spring was a short week at the end of May, and then it was all blistering sun and clear skies. Where they used to be spent in the pool or on the shores of Lover’s Lake, the summer of 86’ was spent in cheap lawn chairs sprawled outside the Munson trailer, feet fighting for space in one of three mismatched kiddie pools they dragged outside.

“And so I told her she wasn’t listening to me and she slammed the door in my face. She didn’t even bother to get up! She used her powers! Can you believe that?”

Mike had once again flubbed it with El. They weren’t even dating anymore, but he kept putting his foot in his mouth around her. Alternating between giving her his unconditional support and insinuating what it is he thought she should do with her life. He meant well, but he could be a real idiot sometimes.

Steve bit his tongue, tuning into the conversation happening in the other pool where the girls were pretending the boys didn’t exist.

“Mike is such a mouth breather. He doesn’t get a say in what you do with your time, especially now that you aren’t together.” Max griped, dark glasses hiding milky eyes staring right up at the sun.

“You don’t ever let a man tell you what to do. This is a free country,” Erica chimed in, kicking one of her feet in the direction of the boys.

And all the while Steve didn’t say a word. In his own kiddie pool, Robin and Nancy were getting into a heated argument about something called the Bell Jar, which Steve had next to no knowledge of. It sounded like it was serious, though.

It sounded like something he had no room to speak on.

So he didn’t.

He counted the seconds in his head, even if he knew it was ridiculous. It made him feel like a kid, how much he wanted someone to just look at him, talk to him, see him. Sometimes, before he started middle school and learned that wanting your mom’s attention was for babies, he would hold his breath with his eyes closed in bed, willing his mom to sense that her only son was about to suffocate and come running in to hold him.

One-hundred and ten, one-hundred and eleven, one-hundred and twelve…

Maybe he should try it, just for fun. A little trip down memory lane.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

One, two, three, four…

Still, he couldn’t help but smile at the sounds of his family, of safety, surrounding him. They almost didn’t have this. Years of terror finally come to an end.

Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five…

His swimmer’s lungs made it almost too easy, the burn for oxygen only just starting to tickle his lungs.

Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty-

“ACK, what the hell?” He turned in his seat, almost toppling the cheap thing over as his feet kicked out and his breath let out in one big rush.

Eddie was standing over him, a wicked grin shamelessly taking over his face. He had a cool beer in each hand, which he had just pressed into the back of Steve’s neck. 

He pulled up a hot pink chair of his own. They were going for 50 cents at Melvald's, no doubt on sale because of their atrocious color. The other man handed him one of the beers, fingers oddly bereft of rings. Steve couldn’t help but stare.

“Sorry, I couldn't help it,” he said. “What are the twerps up to now?”

—---

DnD nights were their own special kind of hell. If he had become quiet on a normal day, he might as well have been a statue for all he spoke on those nights.

He’d been roped into (told he would be) holding Hellfire since the school shut it down. Dustin wasn’t giving up the fight, not by a long shot, but the group had insisted that they needed a place to host campaigns in the meantime.

Lucas had ultimately been the deciding factor, pulling out the sad puppy eyes that Steve couldn’t say no to. All he had to do was say something about “safe spaces” and “how cool it would be” for Steve to host so his parents would let Erica come too, and he’d had no choice but to agree.

Even if he often wished they’d come up with an alternative.

He just didn’t fit in with the rest of Hellfire. Eddie’s friends were nice enough, but they looked at him like they were expecting him to revert back to the boy he was three years ago. Any plates he handed out were treated with suspicion, like maybe he’d spit in them.

And the kids. Jesus Christ. If he’d thought they’d had attitudes before, it was nothing compared to how they could get on a Hellfire night. Any perceived interruption was shut down swiftly and without remorse, usually with a pointed jab at Steve’s inability to understand the nuances of the game.

He learned early on to make himself scarce, hosting duties notwithstanding.

But today, Eddie was in excellent form, and Steve couldn’t help but be drawn into the dining room. He’d accepted two months ago that what he felt for Eddie was more than friendship, and while it scared him, it wasn't something he wanted to shy away from either. Eddie was like a balm to his soul.

He stood, unseen, in the doorway. Eddie was hunched over, voice low and alluring, drawing everyone in the room into his narrative.

“The battle ebbs, enemies strewn about, but stone slabs have not moved, leaving you lost in the dark.”

“Shit!” Dustin yells, throwing his hands up and leading back, “What the fuck are we supposed to do now? Without the key, thank you, by the way, Sir Galant, we’re stuck!”

The commotion continues, Gareth coming to his own defence and the rest of the party bickering. Eddie is so clearly pleased with himself, leaning back in his chair with steepled hands, watching the chaos he’d created.

He leans back in, making the faint sound of wind through his teeth. Steve instinctively tries to do the same, but he knows it doesn’t have the same effect. The party slowly picks up on the sound, going deathly silent as they lean their heads in close.

“What is that?” Will whispers to the others.

Eddie continues in a low voice, effortlessly commanding the attention of the room. “The soft sound of a breeze tickles the ear.” The party rolls perception checks. “Will the Wise, a soft flash catches the corner of your eyes, leading your gaze up, up, up. A small pinprick of light, a small sliver of light, winks back at you from the high dome of the cave. What will you do?”

The party starts strategizing, shooting ideas back and forth on how to scale the walls. If they could blast through or teleport. 

The laugh he lets out is completely by accident. It was just so obvious. It was a trap. How could they not see it?

He doesn’t even realize what he’s done until nine pairs of eyes snap his way.

“What do you want, Steve? This is important and you’re interrupting.” It’s Mike, because of course it is, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter who said it, because they all seem to agree with the sentiment

He should say nothing. He should swallow his tongue and choke on it, just like he had been for the past six months. He should scoff and walk away and pretend like the brush off didn’t burn.

But it was just so obvious, and they couldn’t see it, and he could. This was his chance to get a stupid one up. To show people that he wasn’t as empty in the head as they seemed to think he was.

“Nothing. It’s just that it’s obviously a tr-” And that’s as far as he gets.

“Steve. You’re interrupting a big moment here. Can you just go?” And that would be Dustin. Because of course it is. He’s one of Steve’s favorite people in the world, his brother, and no one can get under his skin like him.

Steve opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out.

Everyone is just looking at him. Waiting for his move. Waiting for him to get a clue and shut his mouth for good.

He turns on his heel and walks away. He doesn’t look back, even as some of the kids call out to him, clamoring over themselves to apologize. Even as he hears a “not cool” from Ricky, of all people.

Not even when he hears the scrape of Eddie’s chair on his mom’s prized hardwood floor, the clack of his cane trailing behind him.

“Stevie, hey, hold on a second.” Steve says nothing. There’s nothing to say, not even to Eddie.

He kept walking, picking up the speed. He knew it was a dick move, that Eddie had no hope of keeping up, especially once he hit the stairs, but he needed the easy out. He couldn’t face this right now, the hot heat of humiliation making his skin itch. He didn’t want Eddie’s pity. Not right now.

He closed his bedroom door behind him, sliding down until his ass hit the floor. He pressed his ear against the wood, listening as Eddie yelled up the stairs.

“Steve? Stevie! Fuck!.” The sound of Eddie’s cane banding against the wall like an outraged gentleman in an old-timey movie usually made him smile, but it wasn’t enough this time. It was just another reminder that he’d fucked something up again.

The sound of distant arguing drifted up under his door. He could feel the timber of Eddie’s voice in his chest, hear the faint clattering of game pieces and notebooks being shoved back into bags.

Steve bit his tongue, hard. He wanted to scream. Wanted to throw something. Wanted to ask why things always had to go this way for him?

Every time he opened his mouth, he ruined something.

“I guess you’re just a little screw up like your father.”

“Hang out with you and Eddie, the freak, Muson? Yeah, I’ll pass.”

“Dustin Henderson. Yeah. Curly hair, great hair, small.”

“Let’s just pretend we’re normal teenagers for the night.”

It’s past time for him to take the god damn hint for good.

The house fell silent, and Steve closed his eyes.

—-

It all happened so quickly.

Hellfire nights were Eddie’s sanctuary. His safe space. The one place in his life where he was in complete control. He set the stage, and everyone else danced.

Getting to host in within the pristine walls of the Harrington house just added to the experience. He got the dual pleasure of getting to defile the space with his ‘satanic rituals’ and, more importantly, got to bask in the presence of one of his favorite people in the world.

Eddie was no longer ashamed to admit to himself or any of his friends that he was down bad for the other boy. How could he not be? He’d always been smoking hot, but now he was also sweet, and badass, and smart, and kind. Kinder than Eddie could have imagined in his own unique, exasperated, self-sacrificial way.

One night a week, every week, he got to bask in two of his three favorite things.

He knew his friends weren’t jazzed about the idea of Steve, and he had been starkly aware of the kids' increasing disregard for their once-revered babysitter, but he didn’t think it would result in this.

“Can you just go?

It was sharp enough to cut into his heart from the other side of the table. So pointed. Direct. For the crime of laughing at the wrong moment.

Steve’s face does that complicated thing Eddie has come to understand means he’s biting his tongue and hiding his emotions. It’s an unfortunately common sight these days, the other man biting his tongue bloody. Eddie couldn’t understand.

Well, he could. He could see it. Hear it. Every day. The way their friends, their fucked up little family, treated Steve like the yappy dog no one really wanted around. Hauling him around like it was their burden in life, talking about him like the sound of his voice grated their ears.

It made him burn. He could never take an injustice lying down, it wasn’t in his nature.

He had been a fool to let himself roll over this one time. He should have known better. He’d always had friends, but this was the first big family he had ever been a part of. The idea of keeping everyone happy, going with the flow, had won out in the end.

He eased his conscience by seeking Steve out, not that he could keep himself away if he tried. Steve was smart in ways Eddie wasn’t. He saw life in a way that the people in their group didn’t, for better or for worse. For all their differences, Eddie knew he could never get tired of the other man’s company.

If the party didn’t want to listen, Eddie was more than happy to take their place.

But it wasn’t enough. One bandaid couldn’t hold the damn back forever.

Steve turns on his heel, not saying a word, and Eddie is left to scramble after him. He’s closing in, so damn close, until he hits those damn stairs. Curse stairs. Stairs are his new mortal enemy. He is going to dedicate the rest of his life to replacing stairs world wide and eradicating them from all homes. Starting with this one.

“Steve? Stevie! Fuck!” The best part of having a cane is that it’s an extension of his being. Banging on the base of the stairs feels like saying fuck with his arm. He stares up, sweating a little from the sudden exertion before tuning back in to the commotion he left behind.

“Eddie, come on. Steve will be fine!” Dustin is saying, acting like he hadn’t just humiliated his best friend in front of everyone.

“Dustin! Not cool.” He hears Lucas say, the sound of a hat landing on the floor.

“It’s not even a big deal. Steve will be fine in, like, ten minutes. We can keep going.” Mike says, trying to keep the ball rolling

“Uh, I don’t know, man. That kind of killed the vibe,” Gareth responds.

There is so much noise and so much bullshit. Nonsense. None of it mattered. None of it was about Steve, not really. Not in the way that mattered, and he was so fucking done.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” Silence descends. This is his stage, and he’s going to make these idiots dance.

“Eddie…” Will. Poor Will was caught in the middle with his tender heart and his loyalty to his friends. He’s not Eddie’s target here, but they’re all going to hear it.

“You all,” he pauses, the space filling with anticipation, “are a party of imbecilic barbarians, if I ever met them.” A few protests rise up, but they are cut off with a sharp wave of his hand. It’s not their turn yet. Eddie is always first in the initiative order here.

“When did our heroes become so heartless? Hm? Did the splendor of victory make us above the simple kindness of the everyday? Hollow glory speakers are all I see at this table.” He smacks the wood of the dining table for emphasis.

“What are you-”

“Steve is our friend, and you’ve all been treating him like shit for weeks, months.” The pause invites them to speak, to defend themselves, but they don’t. Just as he planned.

He lowers his voice. Leaving behind the theatrics and letting the raw anger and hurt do all the hard work for him. “When was the last time someone in this room asked Steve a question?” They all look at each other, at a loss.

“When was the last time someone in this room asked Steve how he was doing?” Nothing.

“When was the last time he even tried to talk to you?” No one will look him in the eye.

“When was the last time he opened his mouth to say something and no one in this room told him to shut up?” The silence in the room is absolute. He almost feels bad for how guilty Dustin looks in this moment, but it means his message hit. The kids share furtive looks, and the guys share annoyingly knowing glances. To be fair, this wasn’t really a conversation for them, but it couldn’t have waited. He just wishes it didn’t show his hand so badly.

“You little gremlins have exactly one chance to apologize, and it won’t be right now. Go home. Think of a good apology, and get Nancy and Robin on board too. Don’t contact Steve until I tell you to.” They stare wide eyed and unmoving. 

Eddie stamps his cane hard on the floor. “What are you waiting for? Go.” And they do. They all scramble to grab their stuff, murmuring fervently to each other as they go.

Jeff walks up to him, mostly undisturbed by Eddie’s show, too used to his friend’s antics. “We got them. You take care of things here.” He pats his shoulder, kind enough not to do more than smirk at Eddie’s protective display.

“Thanks, man.” He watches distantly as the party finishes cleaning and heads out the door, mind already back upstairs with Steve.

The stairs are just as daunting as they always are, but this is important. He takes them one at a time, hauling himself up with the banister. The muscles in his legs are starting to shake by the time he gets to the top, but he can’t help the tingle of pride that reaching the top brings him.

Breathing deep, he knocks lightly at the door. He can see Steve’s shadow blocking the light under the door. “Hey, Stevie,” he pauses, waiting for some kind of response he knew he wouldn’t get. “I told the kids to fuck off.” He can’t join Steve on the floor, not if he wants to get up, but he leans his forehead on the door.

“Just, screw them, you know? I love the little shits, but ignore them.” He listens to the breathing on the other side, labored like maybe he’d been holding it again. He wonders if Steve realizes that Eddie has noticed his new habit. “You deserve to be heard, Steve, and whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll listen.”

He waits, just in case, but he knows he won’t be getting any kind of answer today. He raps on the door in a silent goodbye, and smiles at the two small knocks he gets in reply.

—---

His phone started to ring less than an hour after Eddie left, but Steve ignored it. He was out of words. Where he used to have to bite his tongue, he now felt almost alarmingly free. He was done, and that was it.

So here he was, a week and a half later, still stuck in the house. Without the job at the radio to keep him occupied and with employment in Hawkins all but stalled until repairs finished, it’s not like he had anything pressing to attend to. This is the first time in his life he was ever truly grateful to be a trust fund kid.

But the food was running out. He was officially out of eggs and his Brita has been in need of a new filter for weeks.

Not wanting to run the risk of running into any of his friends, he decided to take the beemer two towns over instead of the Big Buy. Not that anyone would care. Not a single person had knocked on his door. The calls had all stopped by the second day. It had been a week and three days of just him and his thoughts, no words spoken, even to the walls of his home.

Clearly, everyone was excited to be done with Steve. The kids probably told everyone the good news. Even Robin.

And that one stung the worst. Robin was his best friend. His soulmate. She had never been the problem. She could talk and talk and talk and yes, maybe he wasn’t able to get even half of the mileage out of a conversation as she could, but she listened. She reacted and played off him and maybe they hadn’t been as close as he would have liked these past months, but she was always there for him. It wasn’t her fault she had a girlfriend and college on the horizon, but it was looking more and more like she was taking the opportunity to get rid of him, too.

He drove with the windows down, letting the wind be his voice. Springsteen blasted from the speakers, catching on the air. 

He thought of Eddie the entire way.

Eddie had been his safe space, the one person who asked for Steve’s opinion. Who asked how he was doing. Who didn’t look at him like they were waiting for him to put his foot in his mouth the second he walked into the room, pity in their eyes for poor, stupid Steve who was bound to say something that would make everyone’s eyes roll.

His steadfast and unconditional kindness was something Steve didn’t know what to do with, but that he craved like air.

But Eddie hadn’t been back either. No call, no knock at the door, no pigeon on his windowsill.

He opened the door without a sound. Put the groceries in the cupboards silently. Let the TV do the talking after dinner. What was the point? No one was there to listen. No one ever would be.

He went to bed to the sound of his own breathing.

The next day was the same. Wake up. Eat. Watch TV. Clean the same spot as the day before. Try not to feel too sorry for himself. Try to convince himself that he was just being dramatic. That he could open his mouth and garbage, bullshit wouldn’t come falling out.

The gentle sounds of the TV lull him to sleep before he knows it.

Knock, knock.

The two gentle raps at the door are so out of place in his still house that he jumps, landing hard on the floor with a groan. It takes him a moment to blink the sleep from his eyes, long enough that whoever is at the door knocks again, just a little louder.

He debates not answering it. What would be the point, really? Whoever is there will be sorely disappointed in the unspeaking boy who answered the door. 

But he also can’t help but hope. It’s been a week and four days since someone reached out. Maybe today is the day. Maybe today someone will come and tell them they miss him. That they noticed he was missing and wanted to check on him.

His hand stalls just above the handle, and then he swings it open.

It’s Eddie, a little sweaty and twitchy, just the way Steve remembers him.

“Hi, Stevie.” He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. It’s Eddie. If he can talk to anybody, it’s Eddie. But he can’t. Eddie looks at him, clearly expecting some kind of response. He swallows, tries again, but nothing.

And there’s the pity. The look everyone is always giving him like he’s too dumb to read how sorry they are for him on their faces. He never wanted to see that look on Eddie.

“Sorry to just show up. I didn’t, I was going to wait, y’know. Give you the full two weeks, but I couldn’t wait anymore. I wanted to check on you.” He looks at him plaintively, shoulders hunched to make him smaller than the younger man in front of him. “But you don’t got to say anything. You mind if I come in, though?” And that, Steve can do.

He opens the door fully, letting the older man in. 

Eddie barely takes a step in, and he already feels so much better for it. The stale air of this house that isn’t really his feels lighter, shared between two people. He’s glad Eddie doesn’t hesitate to make himself at home, it means at least some things haven’t changed between them.

He watches Eddie lower himself onto his favorite couch cushion, cane leaning against the armrest like always. The other man pats the seat next to him with the air of a father trying to have a heart to heart with their emotionally distant teenager, which makes him huff a laugh. He wouldn’t have thought anything of it if not for the way Eddie lights up at the sound.

The quiet settles on them uncomfortably.

“Hey, uh, feel free to tell me to fuck off. Or call me a freak, or whatever, but could I,” Eddie’s fidgeting, fingers switching in his lap. “Could I hold your hand?” 

It’s so far from anything that he could have imagined Eddie saying in this moment that he jolts, which makes Eddie jolt, which makes this whole awkward situation ten times more awkward. Eddie giggles, high pitched and forced, and starts talking.

“No, nevermind. That was stupid, just uh, pretend I didn’t say that-” Steve doesn’t even realize he's reached out and snatched one of those ringed hands on his own until Eddie stops cold, their clumsy intertwined hands hanging in the air. “Right, okay,” Eddie breathes. “This is nice.”

And then Steve is laughing again. It’s just so easy with Eddie. He has him in stitches before the joke ends. Has him talking before he remembers that he should be biting his tongue. He likes him so much, probably even loves him, he just wishes he wasn’t such a burn out loser whose friends don’t even like him. Then maybe, someday, he could actually tell him.

But he is, and he can’t. He’s just lucky enough that Eddie still seems to care.

“Well, as much as holding the fair skin of the lovely maiden Harrington, I actually came here for a reason. I come bearing gifts, of a sort.” He pulls a stack of papers out of his jacket's inner pocket, so thick it's pushing the limits of the old rubber band around it.

“They’re letters. From the party. Apologies.” He holds them out, but Steve doesn’t take them. He shakes his head. This isn’t what he wanted. More pity. Forced apologies.

He tries to pull his hand away, to retreat. He just knows that Eddie had a hand in this, why else would he be the one delivering the letters? The anger that bubbles in his throat burns. He needs to get away. Now.

But Eddie holds fast, pulling him back in when he tries to run. “Hey, hey. Slow down. I know what you’re thinking but I promise that’s not it.” Steve sits, glaring at the man next to him. He doesn’t look half as chagrined as Steve thinks he should be. “Okay, maybe I did, But!” Steve’s up again, successfully extracting himself to pace in front of the TV.

“But! I didn’t ask them to write the letters! I didn’t! I just…gave them some food for thought. And then Nancy came up with this idea. A letter writing party, or three. They wanted to deliver them themselves, say something to you face to face, but I told them to wait. I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

It doesn’t make him feel better. In fact, it makes him feel worse. If he has anything to offer to the party, it’s his ability to take the hit, any hit, without showing just how bad it hurts. He can’t be this pitiful thing for them to take care of. Won’t survive Eddie treating him like some “get the jock integrated into the nerd group” pet project.

Eddie huffs, throwing his hands up in the air. “Look, would you just read them before you get all defensive and broody? Please?” And Steve’s not broody. He doesn’t brood. And he’s so sure that he doesn’t brood that he’ll prove it by reading those letters like a completely normal non-broody person.

He sits back down, snatching the stack out of his hands with a huff of his own. Eddie could have the decency not to look so smug about it.

He tears open the first envelope, but unfolding it is another thing altogether. He can tell it’s Dustin from the outline of blue ink he can see through the thin, lined notebook paper.

Hey Steve,

Letter writing is becoming more primitive with the digital age on the horizon, as I know I've told you before, but I guess it has its merits. Primarily in the slow organization of my thoughts into clear and concise action items.

Directive one: Acknowledge Guilt

I resent any implication that I have anything approaching an attitude. Mom says I’m a delight, and you know better than to argue with mom. But I also know better than to argue with Max and she says I’m a “butt head” so maybe both things can be true.

The point being, that I am at a developmental stage in which it is natural for me to be feeling self centered, stressed, and lacking forethought. However, I can admit that I haven’t been the best best friend as of late, or the best brother.

He shuffled the papers, moving on to the next one before he could finish Dustin’s.

Heya Steve-O,

This is Robin, you know, your best friend? I know this is supposed to be a letter writing party and I think everyone kind of hoped that having to write would force my brain to slow down but all it’s really doing is making my handwriting worse and you know it’s already not so great.

Anyway, the point is, I’m sorry I haven't been around as much as I should have been. You’re my male sister and it’s my proud job to defend your honor and I haven’t been there to do that. I was going to come over right away but everyone said I should wait and I still don’t have a car and–

The next.

Steve.

I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to say here, but Nancy said she was going to read this before she let me submit it and if I didn’t do it ‘right’ then she would tell mom about the snacks under my bed.

The point is, we don’t get along. I don’t like you, you know that, but you’re still a member of this party, and the party needs to stick together. You dated my sister, you were kind of a douche, and I don’t think we’ll ever be best buds. But you also saved us, like, a lot. And you kept coming back to help us even when you and Nancy weren’t together, and Nancy says she’s over you and you’re over her.

Point is, you’re alright.

So many letters, one from everyone.

You’re coming to girls night next time. No arguing.

Max

Hope you feel better dude,

Lucas S

You still owe me. Ice cream. For. Life.

Scoops Troop Forever.

You still matter to me. So much. I’m sorry I’m not always the best at showing it.

Nancy Wheeler.

Letter from everyone in his life. Their entire little gang, even the people Steve wouldn’t have blamed in the slightest, Jonathan, Will, a very disjointed one written by a very high Argyle.

He reads them all, some more than once, the confusion growing alongside the joy. He pinches his nose, refusing to cry. It’s just nice, is all. Really nice. Nicer than he thinks he probably deserves for something ultimately so small.

The shame of being so dramatic still burns, but it can’t overshadow the relief he feels that he’s not being discarded.

Eddie is looking at him with the softest, fondest eyes. It makes his breath hitch.

“They’re really nice,” he says for a lack of anything better. He clears his throat, trying to get rid of the roughness there.

“You deserve nice,” Eddie says, closing the distance between them. He rubs his arms, gently, ringed fingers catching lightly on the hairs there. Steve had missed it, the easy way Eddie reached out for him. He hadn’t even fully realised how much it happened until it stopped cold turkey. “I’m sorry people haven’t been treating you as nicely as you deserve.”

Steve knows it’s a bad idea, that he’ll crave the closeness when Eddie leaves, but he lets himself be coaxed into a firm hug. “It wasn’t even that big of a deal. I know I’m not exactly a riveting conversation partner. It just sucks to constantly be reminded that you’re the dumbest guy in the room.” He mumbles it into Eddie’s shoulder, grumbling more when Eddie pulls back a little, looking at him with those intense, fathomless eyes.

“You listen to me, Steve Harrington.” He says, voice low and serious the same way it was when they were in the Upside Down. “You are brilliant. I love talking to you, maybe more than anyone else in this stupid, wacky world. No one makes me laugh like you do. No one makes me rethink my biases like you, or think about how I treat others, or introduces me to putting Poptarts in the toaster.

Steve laughs, hiding a sniffle. “It’s literally how they’re supposed to be eaten, Eddie. It’s, like, on the box. In the name, even.” He says, making Eddie laugh right along with him.

“You think I’m reading the box? Who does that? Not me!” And then they’re both laughing, holding each other by the elbows in the middle of the Harrington's living room.

“The point is, Steve, that you make me better. You make me smarter, and if any of those gremlins and little shits and little smarty pants actually took the time to see past their inflated ego, they would be too.” Eddie’s smile is so confident, like what he’s saying is the absolute truth. Steve wishes he wouldn’t look at him like that. It makes it so hard not to kiss him.

“Well, I guess if Eddie Munson says it’s true, it must be.” He’s still not convinced, to all the way, but it’s enough to have these letters in his hand. To hear Eddie say it so plainly. That he’s not an idiot, that he’s happy to listen.

Eddie knocks a knuckle into his chin gently. “Now there’s a good boy,” he says.

It’s supposed to be a joke, of course it is, but Jesus Christ, Steve didn’t know his heart rate could spike so suddenly. It’s almost certainly not good for his health. At least he’s in good company. Steve is surprised he’s still standing with the amount of blood pooling in the other man’s face.

“Sorry, that was. Uh, I mean, nice weather we’re having,” Eddie stammers, fingers twitching at Steve’s elbows and then pulling away, and Steve is moving before he even realizes what he’s doing.

Maybe Eddie is right. Maybe Steve isn’t as stupid and dense as people make him feel, because even he can see that none of this is normal. No one acts like this with their straight guy friends, and if there’s even the smallest chance that Eddie feels the same way as him, Steve isn’t going to hesitate. Words might not be his forte, but he’s always been the first to act.

Their first kiss is clumsy, more of a mashing of lips than anything, but judging by the way Eddie pulls him in close, he doesn’t seem to mind.

They pull apart, both breathing heavily like they just ran a marathon rather than sharing a middle school quality kiss in the middle of the day. “Holy shit!” Eddie says, and if he didn’t look so excited, those perfect dimples on full display, he might have been worried, but all he can feel is joy bubbling up in his throat.

“Yeah, holy shit. Was that, uh, okay?” He hammed it up, just a little, tilting his head so he can look up at Eddie through his eyelashes. No one who regretted a kiss would be looking at him like that.

“Okay? Okay, he asks! That was the best kiss of my life. Can we do it again?” God, he’s so adorable. Steve can’t believe he gets to kiss him.

Instead of answering, he just reels him in, running his hand through his perfect, frizzy curls.

There’s still so much for all of them to work through. Steve will need to talk to everyone at some point. He’ll need more time than he’d like before he really starts talking again, and he may never fully feel like he belongs.

Steve was hearing voices on the radio. More specifically, one voice on the radio, Eddie Munson's. The first time it happened, he and Dustin had been in the WSQK van, on a crawl, slowly following Hopper's trail in the Upside Down, topside. Amongst Hopper's garbled voice and static, another sound rose from the din.

"Hello? Anyone?" The voice– Eddie's voice, sounded hoarse, as though he'd been calling out for some time.

Naturally, Steve looked to Henderson, expecting to see the kid as frantic as he felt, but he wore his usual bored and despondent look as he mindlessly turned the knobs and dials.

"Henderson, you hear that?"

This was it. The moment Steve finally lost his mind. With all the shit he'd seen, he supposed it was about time.

"Hopper trying to get through on the walkie? Yes, Steve. I do, and I'd be able to pick up the signal better if you'd speed up a little."

"Yeah, but what about...?" Steve let his thought fade. He was tired. He hadn't been sleeping well. He was dreaming with his eyes open.

Only Steve kept hearing the voice. Not just on their crawls but on his late-night drives in the Beamer. The Squawk went off air after ten, which meant the station played nothing but static, and through that static, Steve started hearing Eddie. That night in August, Steve went crazy enough to start answering.

"Hello?" Eddie's voice croaked through the static. He sounded as tired as Steve felt.

"Anyone? Ground control to Major Tom? This is E.T. phoning home." Despite everything, Eddie could still joke.

Steve liked to think that, in another life, they could have been friends. Maybe that was why his sleep-addled brain had conjured up Eddie's voice from the ether.

"Hey... uh, Major Tom to ground control?" Steve spoke to the air as he took a tight turn down the end of a quiet neighbourhood.

In another life, Steve would like to live in a comfortably quiet home. His house screamed with the silence of abandonment, instead of sleeping with tranquillity. There was a difference between quiet and silence, not many people knew.

For a moment, there was nothing but static, but then it was shattered by what sounded like the gasp of a wounded animal.

"Steve? Thank, fucking Christ," Eddie's voice gasped.

"Munson? Is that really you?"

Steve had to jerk the wheel as he felt himself driving dangerously close to the curb. He pulled over, but left the car running.

"Live and in stereo. Jesus H. You don't know how happy I am to hear your voice."

Steve might be feeding his own delusions, but god, it felt good to be wanted, just once.

"I could say the same about you. Where are you?"

"I'm stuck in the damn Upside Down, man. Have been for... I don't know how long. I've been running around this goddamn hellscape, hiding from the demogorgons for... I don't know."

Steve leaned back against the headrest and let his eyes fall shut, trying to focus.

"Sixteen months, give or take," Steve breathed. God, he'd been gone so long. This couldn't be real. Eddie had died. Steve had watched him die.

"No... no that can't be right. It can't. It hasn't..." Eddie's voice trailed off, appearing confused.

"I'm sorry... Eddie– Eds, you died." Steve had hoped his sick mind would send him a friend, but instead it sent him a therapy session.

"I tried to save you, man. By the time I got there... there was so much blood–." Steve was glad he'd parked, because he could feel his hands begin to shake.

Watching someone die never leaves you. Steve could close his eyes, and he was back there. Part of him would always be there. He'd heard Dustin's wails of anguish before he'd seen the grusome scene. He knew something had gone terribly wrong.

He'd run until he felt as though his lungs would explode. He'd been so focused on Dustin at first, he hadn't noticed Eddie. He'd taken the boy's bloody face between his hands and tried to examine every inch of him to determine where the blood was coming from. Dustin pushed him away, sobbing Eddie's name. Eddie had been so still that Steve had thought he was already gone. However, he placed the back of his hand inches from Eddie's lips and felt small puffs of air.

The flesh at his sides had been torn beyond recognition, resembling minced meat, instead of flesh and bone. Steve had done his best to pack the wound. He'd been wrist deep inside Eddie's skin. He'd never forget the warm flow of blood around his fingers as he tried to feed Eddie's intestines back inside his body. He'd never un-hear the wet squelch of flesh on flesh. He'd tried his best to save Eddie. Logically, he knew that. But he never felt like he'd done enough.

He remembered struggling to hold Eddie in his arms, as they made for the gate out of The Upside Down. All the blood made him slippery. Steve had toppled over, desperately trying to cling to Eddie rather than letting him go. He'd skinned his knees, his hands and his chin. It'd taken Steve four tries to hoist Eddie up through the hole in the trailer roof, with Dustin hot on his heels.

By the time Eddie's body was in Hawkins, his eyes were glassy, and he'd stopped breathing. Even then, Steve had tried. He scraped together all the knowledge he'd gathered from his first job as a lifeguard during his sophomore year and beat down on Eddie's chest until his wrist ached and he was covered in sweat. Nothing brought him back, but god, he'd tried.

"I died," Eddie echoed at last. Steve thought he heard a hint of disbelief in his tone.

"But I'm... here," Eddie sounded as lost as Steve felt.

"I'm sorry," Steve breathed. Unsure what else he was supposed to say.

"Oh shit," Eddie's voice crackled through the static, sounding suddenly distant.

"Creepy demodogs are hot on my six, Steve. I've gotta move. Find me again. I don't know how you did it but–." The radio static swallowed Eddie's voice whole.

Once again, Steve was alone.

After being directionless for so long, Steve threw himself headlong into finding and contacting Eddie. Any spare moment was spent combing every inch of Hawkins, with the radio tuned to static if he was driving or his walkie-talkie fixed to his and Eddie's private channel if he was on foot.

He wasn't sure if he was going crazy, but the alternative was worse. If he wasn't crazy, that meant part of Eddie had survived, only to be trapped in an evil wizard's hell dimension. Steve Harrington wasn't in the business of leaving his people behind. He had to bring Eddie home.

In the weeks that followed, he and Eddie had come closer to understanding how to contact each other. Much like Hopper's walkie and the Squawk van, Eddie and Steve needed to be close to one another to talk. At first, that seemed to make matters simple. If Eddie camped out at Steve's house in The Upside Down and Steve turned on his walkie, they could talk for hours on end, which they did. However, the Upside Down was still crawling with demogorgons, meaning it wasn't safe to stay in one place too long, lest Eddie get cornered. Neither boy wanted to know what would happen if he died twice.

They organised nightly meet-ups across Hawkins, trying to keep Eddie on the move. All the while, Steve was trying to work out how to get back into the Upside Down to get Eddie out without the military or the other members of the party realising. He hadn't intended to keep Eddie's possible return from the dead from the others, but everything felt so complicated. There were too many variables, too many things to go wrong. Losing Eddie once had broken Dustin in ways Steve feared he would never mend from. He didn't dare think what would happen if they couldn't save Eddie a second time. To Steve's surprise, Eddie agreed. Neither boy would admit it, but they both knew how unlikely it was that they'd be able to get Eddie out.

"Where should we swing by tomorrow? I was thinking maybe we could hang out at Enzo's parking lot," Eddie's voice rose from the static.

It was mid-September, and the boys had grown close in such a short time. Steve had been surprised at how easy they had bonded in the days after Eddie was accused of murder. Eddie knew what he was going to say before Steve did, particularly regarding Dustin, and, much to Steve's surprise, he could read Eddie's moods without the man saying a word. It was a bond he'd shared with Robin, but that had taken months of working a minimum wage job together, coupled with being drugged and tortured, not to mention Robin coming out to him.

He and Eddie didn't have as much shared history. They hardly talked in high school. Steve didn't know how to explain it. He felt like a part of him had always known Eddie. Even when they had been strangers, Eddie had caught Steve's eye at his parties and across the cafeteria. His long hair, denim vest and ringed fingers always managed to snag Steve's attention, like a hangnail in a knitted sweater.

He thought, for a moment, of Robin's bathroom confession, how much she'd noticed about him, because of her crush on Tammy Thompson. Steve had always noticed Eddie, but not because he was popular with any of the girls he'd half-heartedly dated. Steve had spent a long time trying to unpack what all that meant for him.

After Eddie's death, he'd never admit how much he mourned what could have been. He felt like they were getting a second chance, and he wasn't about to let it go to waste. If it were anyone else, Steve would've worried he'd come on too strong, as was his habit, but to his surprise, for each part of himself he overshared, Eddie did so in kind.

Steve supposed it was bound to happen. Eddie had been alone for months. He needed someone. Steve had been lonely for... years, really. They both needed one another.

It was one of the lucky nights, they'd been able to meet at his home. His late nights and early mornings hunting for Eddie meant his sleep schedule was nonexistent, so getting to curl up in his bed with the walkie by his head as he talked to Eddie felt like a small luxury. He wondered if Eddie was in the same place in the Upside Down, curled up on top of the covers, in Steve's bed. The thought made him shiver. He was trying not to dwell on all the feelings Eddie spurred in him. It was too complex.

"You want to take me to Enzo's?" Steve mused, propping his arm behind his head.

"I figured you're a class act, Harrington. If we're going to meet in a parking lot under the cover of darkness, it might as well be one worthy of your standing," Eddie replied, making Steve roll his eyes.

"I've got another idea," Steve began.

"This morning, I drove close enough to the military base to pick up on their internal radio chatter. Turns out, they're doing a burn tomorrow night at the break near Forest Hills. The rest of the gang hasn't picked up on it yet. Thought we could try meeting up in your neck of the woods," Steve proposed.

"By my neck of the woods, you mean The Upside Down? Don't you think it's a little dangerous sneaking past the military on your own?" Eddie was hesitant, but he wasn't saying no.

"It's only dangerous if you get caught, and I know how to be sneaky," Steve argued and heard a faint snicker.

"Just because you say you'd make a good ninja dude, doesn't mean I believe you."

"I'm not hearing a no," Steve challenged.

"That's because, as dumb as your idea sounds... I really want to see someone that's not shaped like a hell-bat or a fly trap. You're playing on my weakness, Stevie," Eddie spoke. Steve felt a smile creep over his lips.

"So it's settled, I'll meet you there tomorrow night. If everything goes well, I might be able to get you topside by breakfast."

Steve knew he was being optimistic. When he had outlined the areas the military frequently burned to Eddie, the boy had tried to sneak past them and cross the barrier to Hawkins, but so far, he hadn't been successful. Something was keeping Eddie tethered there. They were entertaining a handful of theories, with no real evidence to support them.

"Okay, Stevie. Just be careful. If it's too dangerous, turn back. Don't play the hero," Eddie said, and it hurt to have his own words echoed back at him.

"I thought that was my job," Steve mumbled.

"No. Not today it's not. No more heroes," Eddie insisted.

"No more heroes," Steve echoed, gazing up at the ceiling, imagining Eddie beside him, doing the same.

"If we get you out of there, I'll actually take you to Enzo's... if you want," Steve whispered.

For a moment, he'd felt brave, but the second the words left his lips, he was terrified. Maybe he'd read Eddie all wrong.

He heard Eddie laugh. Which hurt more than it should.

"You know that's a date place, right? I know you're rich and all, but I couldn't imagine you and Tommy H swinging by for a candle-lit dinner after a basketball game."

"I know it's a date place," Steve tried again.

"That's why I asked you."

The silence that followed seemed to stretch out for a lifetime before Eddie uttered a quiet 'oh'.

"Yeah... Stevie. If everything goes as planned, I'll go to Enzo's with you."

Getting away from the radio station on time to meet Eddie was harder than Steve anticipated. He was halfway out the door when Robin called his name and jogged to catch up with him.

"Dingus. Vickie just called, and she's picking up a double shift at the hospital. Which means my Friday night is officially free. Want to have a movie night? Last week, Murray smuggled us some new tapes I've been dying to watch."

On any other night, Steve would've jumped at the opportunity to spend time with Robin, but not tonight. The only problem was, he hadn't had time to come up with a convincing lie.

"Ah, you see, I'd love to, but I've got... plans tonight," Steve tried. It was way too vague. Robin wouldn't buy it.

"I've got a date," Steve corrected.

"Since when do you not tell me about your dates? I could literally name every girl you've slept with... probably ever. Which is very gross, and slightly codependent– but not the point." Shit. Robin had a point.

"I forgot about it. No big deal. You just reminded me." Steve hated lying to Robin. He wasn't good at lying to Robin.

"No, you didn't. You've checked your watch five times in the last hour. That's only something you do when you know you've got to be somewhere," Robin argued.

Lie better, Harrington. Steve thought. He needed to meet up with Eddie. If he didn't do it that night, he had no idea when the next opportunity would present itself.

"It's with a guy," Steve blurted out.

It was uncomfortably close to the truth, and in retrospect, he was surprised he hadn't talked to Robin about his burgeoning sexuality crisis sooner. He hadn't wanted to. If he said it out loud, it would make it real.

Instead of saying anything in reply, Robin pulled him into a bone-crushing hug that knocked the air from his lungs. For a moment, he stiffened before sinking in. It'd been a long time since someone had held him. It was a shock to the system.

"I'm sorry,' She muttered against Steve's shoulder, surprising him. What did she have to feel sorry for?

"I shouldn't have pushed you. If you're not ready to come out, that's okay. This conversation never happened. Look, I've already forgotten about it. You can tell me again in a month or a year. Or never. Never is okay, too. A little unhealthy, but okay... You should talk to someone about it at some stage, though," Robin rambled, her words tumbled over one another, as they did when she was nervous.

"It's okay. I wanted to talk to you about it, I just..." Steve didn't know how to explain, but he didn't have to. Robin was nodding enthusiastically.

"It's hard to say it sometimes."

"I don't know if I've even said it to myself yet," Steve admitted.

Robin squeezed his shoulder hard before letting him go.

"It's okay. Sometimes it takes time. No rush," She assured before a dark look crossed her face.

"This guy, is he nice?" Steve wanted to laugh.

"No, Rob, he's an asshole. What do you think?" He placed a hand on his hip and cocked his brow.

"Honestly, Steve? With your track record with girls, I've got no idea. When it comes to your love life, you're Mr Self-Sabotage."

"He's nice," Steve said.

He wasn't sure if the general population of Hawkins would agree that Eddie 'The Freak' Munson was nice, but Hawkins didn't know Eddie. He collected lost and broken things. He made sure no one ever felt left out, no matter how strange they were. He opened doors for people. He made Steve feel like a person, for the first time in a long time.

"Do I know him?" Robin asked.

"Remember when you said I shouldn't out people?" Steve asked, side-stepping the question. Saying he was going on a date with a guy was one thing; dating long-dead Eddie Munson was something else entirely.

"Okay. Fine. You're right. But I'm here if you do need to talk about it," Robin promised, and Steve nodded, looking down at his watch. He was so late. He hoped they hadn't started the burn yet.

"Alright, Lover boy. I won't keep you any longer. Have a good date. I'll be expecting all the gory details tomorrow."

Steve snorted and waved her off.

Steve Harrington was reckless, but sometimes, being reckless paid off.

Steve tried to recall everything Hopper had told them about his previous crawls. He'd followed close to one of the military trucks, hitching a ride on the back when the coast was clear. Though if Hopper got caught, he had an arsenal of guns. All Steve had was a poorly fashioned nail bat, a flask of kerosene and a lighter.

As the terrain became marred with sparsely populated trees, Steve jumped and rolled for cover. From there, he waited for the military to leave, then set about trying to find Eddie. Unfortunately, something else found him first.

A demodog lurched from the shadows, knocking Steve from his feet. In a heartbeat, he scrambled upright, swinging the bat and landing a solid blow to the creature's side. He was winding up for a second hit when something encircled his wrist. He looked to see Eddie, stilling his hand and urging him with a violent tug to run. You didn't have to tell Steve twice.

The two boys ran side-by-side, keeping pace with each other's matching strides. It became a rhythm, the crunch of dirt underfoot at Steve's side and to his back. The demodog continued to pursue for several miles. They didn't stop until long after the creature had disappeared from view.

Finally, Eddie stopped running, and the boys doubled over, sucking gasping lungfuls of spore-filled air. Steve had hardly caught his breath when Eddie barrelled into him, knocking him off his feet and surprising him with a tight and desperate hug.

"God Stevie, you're a sight for sore eyes," Eddie mumbled, sounding far less winded than Steve felt. He wondered how much of Eddie's day was spent running from monsters.

Steve didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected to make it as far as he had. He hadn't expected Eddie to be real, not really. He'd never been good with his words. He wrapped his arms around Eddie and held him tightly, trying to erase the last memory of his glassy brown eyes, staring sightless at the stars, his bloodless body painted red.

Steve buried his face in Eddie's chest, never mind the dry gravel digging into his exposed flesh. His breathing was uneven. He was startlingly close to crying and Eddie seemed to notice.

"Hey, all that for little old me," He muttered, shifting, freeing a hand so he could angle Steve's face to meet his gaze.

"I missed you," Steve remarked.

If Eddie were a normal person, he might have said something like 'you don't know me, how could you miss me?' Good thing Eddie Munson was anything but a normal person.

"I missed you too," Eddie replied and gave Steve one more tight squeeze, looking for a moment like he couldn't believe it was something Steve was letting him do. Steve wanted him to do it again.

"As much as I'd like to stay here with you, if we don't get moving, something's bound to catch up with us. This area has been a hotbed for hell beasts lately."

The two broke apart and started to make their way towards the vine-like wall where Steve had entered. They jogged at a steady pace. Steve hoped the military was bound for their fortress in The Upside Down and wouldn't be coming back soon, but he could never be sure.

"I can't believe you actually made it," Eddie gasped as he ran, exhilarated by Steve's mere presence.

"I told you, Munson. Sneaky, like a ninja, and you doubted me," Steve laughed.

"I didn't underestimate your abilities, so much as I overestimated the goddamn military," Eddie spoke. He kept glancing at Steve, as though disbelieving his eyes.

"You'd be surprised how far I'd go for a good date, Munson." Steve shot Eddie a wink. Eddie let out a strangled cough.

It surprised Steve how easy flirting with him was once he'd permitted himself. He revelled in the way he'd made Eddie Munson, a fully grown man, blush. Oh, Steve could get used to this. Flirting with Eddie was new and thrilling. How had Steve spent so long not doing it?

'A 'good date,' huh? Laying it on a little thick there, sweetheart. I'm a mediocre date at best," Eddie uttered, picking up the pace.

Steve hung back for a moment, just to watch the way his body moved. If he'd had any doubt he was straight, the thoughts that sprang to his mind as he watched Eddie's body move put a stop to it.

"You'll just have to prove it then," Steve smirked, running to catch up with Eddie, teasingly tugging the bandanna from the back pocket of his jeans as he did so.

He heard Eddie mutter, 'Jesus H. Christ' under his breath.

It wasn't long before the two arrived at the burn site. Steve pulled the flask from his pocket, drenching the wall of strange vine-like growths in kerosene.

"Steve, if this doesn't work..." Eddie began, but Steve held up a hand to stop him. It had to work.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow night at the high school parking lot," Eddie pushed.

"It's going to work."

"We've only got one shot at this tonight. You've got enough lighter fluid for one run out, and I'm not letting you get stuck here with me. If it doesn't work, we'll try something else. We'll work it out."

Steve turned to face Eddie, looking down at the boy's ringed fingers. He wanted to touch them. No one was stopping him. He pulled the boy's hands into his. They were rough and calloused in a way that made Steve's mouth go dry. How the hell hadn't he considered how good a man's hands could feel? Logistically, he knew, but now that he'd allowed himself to consider it, there was a whole world he'd been missing out on.

When Steve looked up from Eddie's hands, he was surprised to meet startled brown eyes. Eddie's gaze shifted over Steve's face, landing on his lips. Please. Steve thought. Please.

"I'm going to kiss you, so if things go south, we both know what we've got to look forward to. Okay?" Steve nodded.

"Okay."

One of Eddie's hands moved to encircle the back of Steve's neck, while the other landed palm down on the side of his face. He hadn't realised Eddie had stubble until he was kissing him. God, it was good. Eddie's rough hands with their gentle touch made Steve weak at the knees. He surged forward, deepening the kiss. One hand trailed down to the small of Eddie's back, and the other settled lower still.

Steve could die in that moment, and he'd die happy.

The sound of distant cars caused the two to spring apart. Steve wanted more. They didn't have time.

"We've gotta go." Eddie nodded.

Steve reached for his lighter and watched as the fire scorched through the vines. He gripped Eddie's hand hard. The hole left was narrow. Steve went first, but as soon as Eddie's hand reached the threshold, Steve felt the resistance. He tugged harder, hoping it would help, but Eddie didn't budge. Steve gazed over his shoulder at the boy and caught his sad smile.

"It's okay, Stevie. We knew it was a long shot."

It wasn't fair. It goddamn wasn't fair.

"I'm not leaving you," Steve insisted.

Eddie squeezed Steve's hand.

"Come back and visit soon, okay?"

Eddie let go of Steve's hand and pushed him out of the Upside Down. He landed with a thud on the familiar ground of Hawkins.

He lay in the dirt, looking up at the stars. The night was silent, not quiet.