Nerd Blog

A snippet from 💎 (this one I have had gestating in my tumblr drafts for a few weeks, being written line by excruciating line after I got the image of Steve munching on a Peanut Butter Bopper while glowering at his mother from a distance about something lol)

Eddie tiptoes forward, sidling up to his boyfriend, ever curious. "Steve, what are you doing?" Steve takes another bite of his treat and sighs. "Stress eating." Despite mumbling through the side of his mouth, Steve still manages to convey that bitchy lilt. "I see..." Eddie moves to step closer, hopefully spot whatever has earned Steve's ire. But the reflection of the morning sun offers nothing but a sharp sting as it obscures his view into Gino's Pizzeria. "What's got your jeans in a twist?" "My mom is in there," Steve huffs, "Flirting with Gino."

Tags (ooof, i haven't done this in a hot minute!): @hbyrde36 @kikidoesfanfic @shelleyminx @augustjustice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx

Blood. There was blood everywhere. On his hands, under his fingernails, staining his shoes, soaking into the knees of his pants, on his face when he brushed hair out of his eyes. There was blood seeping through his own bandages, the wounds torn open when he was grabbed by Vecna's vines, dried blood around his neck from the demobat tail, bloody wings on his back and arms from where the demobats dragged him through the portal and across the rough, rocky ground, ripping off layers of skin.

There was blood everywhere on him, too. Staining his white shirt crimson, oozing from his neck, coating his teeth, the pool of it growing beneath his still, breathless body. His life force trickled sluggishly from the corner of his mouth, where a demobat sliced through his lip as they crawled all over him like the Upside Down's finest cafe. His hair is damp, too deep a brown to see the scarlet life coating the strands, but in the Upside Down with no water, it's clearly from the blood.

"EDDIE!" Dustin screamed, voice cracking and full of pain, "No no no, wake up! WAKE UP!"

Steve has to pry Eddie from Dustin's grasp, begging him to let go so he can lay Eddie flat to begin chest compressions. It feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest as he hears Dustin's pain, but he doesn't have time to comfort him. Not if they want Eddie to survive this. Nancy dropped to her knees on the other side of Eddie, ripping open the backpack Steve threw down before he began to beat Eddie's heart for him.

One, two, three, four…

"He… shit! Why did he-" Dustin wailed brokenly, fighting to escape Robin's grip as she pulled him backward, "He died because of ME!"

"Absolutely not!" Robin yelled back, her own voice thick with emotion, "He's not dead, he's not going to die. Steve and Nancy, they'll… they… they'll bring him back."

Robin pulls Dustin into her arms, the younger boy clinging to her, head buried in the crook of her neck, tears and blood from his hands soaked into her shirt as he broke into heaving sobs, gripping onto Robin like a lifeline.

Eddie wasn’t stupid, contrary to popular belief. Sure, his teachers may have thought so, and maybe his father did too, but he wasn’t. Or at least, he hadn’t been. He hadn’t been, until he decided to follow his stupid boyfriend to Chicago, even with the pit of unease that creeped into his gut and didn’t leave.

He hadn’t been, until he ignored everything that told him this was a bad idea because Tommy was so good at talking him out of his own thoughts.

You’re overthinking, he’d say.

You need to relax, he’d say.

You’re seriously going to stay in your podunk town just because you ‘feel weird’? C’mon, Eddie.

And he sounded right, at the time. An apartment he didn’t have to pay for, a job already lined up at the same company Tommy’s dad ran, someone there so he wasn’t alone in a new city.

It seemed right. It seemed stupid to refuse.

That was until he found himself unceremoniously kicked to the curb after one fucking fight. A fight that Eddie refused to settle on, and kept poking the bear until Tommy reported him to his father for harassment, got him fired, and tossed his bags out the fourth floor window of their apartment.

Tommy’s apartment. Because Eddie wasn’t on the lease.

Eddie didn’t think he was stupid, but he sure felt like he was as he sat on the curb of an unfamiliar city, two shitty duffle bags of his clothes and not much else sitting beside him as he smoked through his last pack of cigarettes. It had only been three months. Three months, until he was suddenly homeless, jobless, and apparently fucking brainless to boot.

It wasn’t even like it was a new fight, it was a fight that had been shoved aside so many times, he kind of expected it to keep being pushed off until it was irrelevant. It wasn’t even like Tommy was cheating, or pursuing other people; he wasn’t looking elsewhere, he didn’t have wandering eyes, and he wasn’t afraid of claiming Eddie in public whenever they went out — which was new for Eddie. Maybe that skewed his idea of a healthy relationship, just a little.

No, instead it was like there was a third man in the relationship that was never actually there.

A ghost.

A remnant of a life that didn’t even exist. One that Tommy just couldn’t get out of his head.

Eddie’d never even met the guy.

Steve Harrington.

Apparently he and Tommy had gone to high school together, before either of them even realized they were gay. Which would mean nothing, as far as Eddie was concerned. He’d had plenty of gay awakenings in high school that went absolutely nowhere, and they fizzled out fairly quickly.

The problem was that it wasn’t flizzling. Every time Eddie did something slightly wrong, it was ‘Steve did it this way’ or ‘Steve did it that way’ or ‘Steve’s dinner tasted better, but yours is good too, Eds.’

For once Eddie just wanted to have a nice night in with his boyfriend, without having Steve Harrington hanging over the conversation. He was overthinking, Tommy said; he was paranoid, he insisted; it wasn’t like Steve was even in the state, Eddie, they were just high school friends, get over it.

So Eddie told him he wasn’t the one who needed to get over it. It was Tommy that kept bringing him up, it was Tommy that kept inserting some random guy into their relationship, it was Tommy who compared every little thing Eddie did to Steve, when — News Flash! — Steve clearly didn’t want him, it was Eddie who had moved states to be with him, it was Eddie he’d begged to follow him, it was Eddie who’d made them dinner every fucking night to several back-handed compliments and critique disguised as praise.

Apparently that wasn’t the correct thing to say, he scoffed to himself as he flipped through the contacts in his phone and debated whether or not calling Wayne for a ride or walking to the nearest bus station was better. Wayne would have to drive for a few hours to reach him, and that would definitely result in ‘I told you so’s and ‘I hated that boy from the beginning’s that Eddie didn’t want to deal with right now.

On the other hand, the Greyhound station was a couple miles away, and he’d have to call Wayne for a ride once he got to Hawkins anyway.

Eddie groaned, poking around through his social media just to delay his choice for a few more minutes. He didn’t think he’d be this annoyed by the end of a two-year relationship. He figured he’d be sadder, maybe a little depressed, maybe he’d feel all his emotions congeal into a blob of despair that would clog up his lungs and his throat and choke him from the inside out.

At least, that’s what the movies and books would claim.

Instead, he felt righteous indignation burn a hole through him as he looked at Tommy’s latest instagram post — a picture of their dinner from a couple days ago, Eddie’s ring-clad hand loosely resting around the stem of a wine glass (one he’d kind of wished he threw at Tommy’s head) that was taken right before their fight started and ended with their relationship up in flames.

Sometimes it’s all worth it 

The caption stared at him mockingly. Eddie wasn’t even tagged in it or anything, it was just Tommy’s smug little way of looking perfect online — he didn’t need Eddie for that, he just needed a prop, another body to show the world that Tommy wasn’t pathetic and alone, to pretend that he wasn’t hung up on some high school nobody like the loser he was. God, Eddie was so mad.

The timestamp was even minutes ago, as if he hadn’t already told Eddie he was fired and his stuff was on the curb by then. He could strangle that little weasel, he could march right back up the stairs and pound on the door and demand he delete the stupid picture.

But what would that do?

Tommy wouldn’t even open the door, let alone delete his stupid post. He probably had a stockpile of their pictures just to keep up the relationship on Instagram for appearances. He scoffed, the sound ripping from his throat sharp with anger that had nowhere to go.

Posting some angry rant online calling him out would just make Eddie look like a lunatic, and give him proof to hand over to HR to justify his firing. Was slinking back to Hawkins with his tail between his legs really the only thing he could do about this? Tommy deserved to feel like shit, he deserved to get a relationship thrown into his face over and over again, Eddie wasn’t just a prop, he was a person.

He was angrily scrolling through past pictures, his last cigarette hanging from his lips when a username caught his eye.

StevietheHairington had liked one of their early pictures, one with Eddie’s hand clasped in Tommy’s over a fancy tablecloth with candles and mood lighting, and suddenly he had an idea.

A petty one, for sure, but Eddie had never exactly been known as level-headed. He was a big fan of petty, a huge fan of petty — call him Tom Petty he was so ready to not back down.

So he went to Steve’s profile, just for a peek. Just a look — not even a look, a glance, just a little one.

The guy was gorgeous, he’d give Tommy that. All tan and happy, pretty mole-dotted skin that could absolutely stick in someone’s head for years. He looked sweet, nice even, which he hadn’t quite expected from someone who was friends with Tommy in school. He had several pictures with some girl, declarations of best friends and platonic soulmates that said Steve was probably single, which worked perfectly for the little plan that was vaguely forming in Eddie’s head.

It wasn’t even a plan, yet, just the whispers of a plan, really. It was kind of crazy, even for Eddie, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to try.

So he opened his DMs and sent probably the most unhinged message to a stranger that he’d ever sent in his life. He started with a simple ‘Hey man. You don’t know me, but I think you know my boy—’ he deleted the last few letters and shook his head, clearing his throat from the anger that suddenly climbed up to choke him, ‘ex-boyfriend,’ he amended.

‘We’d been dating for a few years and he dragged me to a new city just to throw me to the curb because he was too obsessed with you. I know that’s not your fault, and I’m not mad, but I was wondering if you’d maybe be interested in helping me get a little revenge?’

‘Ik this is weird and a lil fucked up and everything but he seriously left me stranded and got me fired and this is the only thing I can think of to get back at him…’

He didn’t exactly expect a reply, to be honest. He kind of figured that would be that, and he’d just have to suck it up and deal with getting his life back in order — starting with the trek to the train station with his stupid bags weighing him down like cement blocks.

He was sweaty and tired by the time he got a ticket and a seat, a vague text to Wayne about coming to visit for a few days… or weeks, that he then ignored. He had two hours to gear up for the ‘I told you so’s, he didn’t need them before he and his uncle were even face-to-face.

When his phone buzzed a few minutes later, he figured it would be the exact type of text he didn’t want to read, but it was a DM instead.

From Steve.

Eddie scrambled to open the app, nearly dropping his phone in the process, heart skyrocketing into his throat like the king of rock himself had just messaged him instead of a stranger.

‘weird lol whos ur ex?’

That’s all it said. Simple.

‘Tommy Hagan?’

‘I’m in.’

The reply was instantaneous. It popped up like a liferaft, dragging Eddie’s drowning emotions to the surface with renewed clarity and hope. He didn’t think it’d be that easy, he didn’t think he’d get a reply at all, let alone an immediate one.

A bubble popped up, ellipses drifting in and out until Steve replied again.

Wayne gives him a look.

“I dunno. If we accept the possibility that the universe is infinite, and that there must be intelligent life somewhere out there, why not believe in other realities beside our own? You ever heard of chaos theory?”

Eddie fiddles with the flap of his can. “I think so? Isn't that the thing with the butterfly? How one beat of a bug's wing over here can cause a hurricane in China or whatever?”

Wayne nods. “Or how the most irrelevant of choices can lead to a dozen different outcomes. Like that lottery ticket I bought on the way here? Maybe there's a universe where the guy in front of me decided to get one, too, and I ended up with the next one in the roll. Maybe that was the grand prize. Maybe there's a universe where I'm a millionaire right now. Would be pretty damn neat, huh?”

“Sure,” Eddie huffs. “What would you even do with a million bucks? Build the world's largest collection of atrocious mugs?”

Secretly, though, he can't help but wonder. About a world where Wayne wasn't there to see the burns and bruises on his skin, wasn't there to step in and drag him out from under his old man's boot. About a world where Lynn picked a different doorway to sleep in that night, and they never met. A world where he didn't take Steve for dinner and was home when the intruders arrived. A world where Wayne did move them to Hawkins, a world where he knew Steve sooner.