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Wayne is reading the newspaper and Eddie watches him absentmindedly while chomping down another pancake, trying not to make too much of a mess with the syrup dripping everywhere.

Sometimes Eddie forgets how much time has passed since he first showed up on the trailer’s doorstep, how much he’s grown since then. But as he takes in Wayne’s features, he finds a reminder in the new lines he discovers on his uncle’s face, little signs of age that make his heart grow and sink at the same time.

It hits him then, out of nowhere, how much of his life Wayne has given up for Eddie. To raise him and help him become the man he is today. How much love he poured into his upbringing, despite all the trouble he put him through.

He’s more than just his uncle; he’s a friend, a father figure, the only worthy connection tying him to the Munson name. And for all the struggles Eddie’s early childhood entailed, he couldn’t have been luckier than to end up right here.

Wayne was always accepting of all of his choices, even the ones he didn’t condone or understand. Always making sure Eddie knew he’d have his back no matter what.

Even when Steve eventually came into the picture and Eddie was sure this would be where he’d draw the line and send him to hell, Wayne once again proved there was nothing in this world that could change his unconditional love for him.

Thinking back on it now, Eddie can’t even remember why he was so scared to introduce Steve as his boyfriend. Why he ever doubted that his uncle would do anything other but embrace the fact that Steve was now part of their unconventional little family. Treating him like a son, just like Eddie, like it was the easiest thing to do.

And it makes him wonder, how a man who has so much love to give never ended up with a family of his own.

   "Can I ask you something?”

Wayne looks up from his paper with raised brows, waiting for Eddie to continue.

   “Did you ever regret not having kids?"

Wayne takes a long sip from his mug before he answers, "What do ya mean? I got you, son."

Eddie immediately chokes up, swallows roughly to regain his composure. It never not makes him emotional whenever he’s reminded that Wayne sees in him more than just a life-long burden, a blood relative that got dropped on his door step for him to take care of. Wayne always called him his own. Made him feel like it, too. But that’s not what this is about, not the point of his question.

   "That’s- not what I mean. Did you never, like, think about getting married? You know, find a wife, have a family, all that stuff."

Wayne sets down his mug and thinks for a moment.

   "Sure. I thought about it once or twice. Had a girl once, when I was younger, thought maybe she would be the one. But I guess it just didn’t happen. And then my priorities changed.”

Meaning he took up guardianship for Eddie. Put all his spare time and energy into raising a traumatized boy instead of following his own dreams.

   “Don’t you give me that look, boy. I chose to take you in and I haven’t had a single moment of regret for doing it.”

Eddie’s throat feels tight, nose and eyes burning with tears he refuses to spill.

   “But if you hadn’t, do you think your life would be... different?”

He doesn’t say better because he knows Wayne wouldn’t tolerate him even thinking that.

   “Who’s to say? I’ll never know and I don’t care. I’m happy with my life as it is. I have you. And Steve. You're my family, that's enough."

Eddie can feel tears trickling down his face, tries his best to subtly wipe his eyes before Wayne sees it, but of course he notices it.

   "Hey now. Where's all that coming from? Is this about you and Steve?”

He doesn’t know why he’s even surprised that his uncle instantly came to the right conclusion despite not having mentioned Steve’s name once. It’s not like he could ever hide anything from him; Wayne always knew what went on in his head.

   “It’s- nothing,” Eddie lies but knows the moment he says it, that there is no use to deny it. Wayne would never push but one stern look from his otherwise gentle eyes is enough to make Eddie crumble.

   “It’s just- One of Steve's colleagues from work recently became a dad and it's all he's been talking about."

It was one of the things Eddie often joked about after his secret was finally out. Telling Wayne he’d save him from becoming a grandpa, that he wouldn’t have to worry about Eddie accidentally getting Steve pregnant and having to take care of another abandoned child so he wouldn’t lose any more hair. Wayne did not appreciate his dark sense of humour, just rolled his eyes and told him to shut it but that never stopped Eddie from bringing it up.

But lately, the same subject has been haunting Eddie every waking hour of the day and in his sleep.

   “I see,” Wayne says and rubs his scruffy chin in thought. “So now you’re worried Steve feels like he’s missing out, is that it?”

Eddie wishes he could tell himself that he’s just jumping to conclusions. That it’s not as deep as he makes it. But he knows how much Steve loves kids.

They have a whole gaggle of now young adults to prove how good he is with kids, too, because the ones he’d been babysitting as a teen still worship him like he’s their own personal hero. Still regularly call and visit and ask him for advice and guidance because they know he’s always there for them.

And in the past, Eddie thought that this might be enough to compensate for something they’ll never get to experience first-hand. That the family bond they have with all these wonderful people around them would be all they need to make their life complete. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe it isn’t enough.

   "Did your boy ever say he wants kids?"

He did, once. But that was long before they started dating, back when they were just friends and Steve was still hung up on a past relationship with a girl he thought he’d marry one day, and have kids with, and be the good version of a father both of theirs never lived up to be.

They were still so young then, foolishly caught in the illusion that they’d had their future paths all figured out, unaware of the crossroad waiting for them down the line, offering a choice they hadn’t yet considered optional.

And then, suddenly and unplanned, friends became lovers, and everything changed. And maybe it was selfish of Eddie to think all these ideas Steve had of a perfect life would simply change with him. That falling in love with another guy automatically came with the acceptance that some things just wouldn’t be in the cards anymore.

But much like Wayne chose not to get married and start a family, Steve does have a choice. And it kills Eddie inside to think that maybe he wasn’t the right one. That maybe Steve will wake up one day and realise he wasted years on something that leaves him unfulfilled. He’s not bound to the circumstances he’s in, so what if-

   “What if he does? Maybe not right now but what if he changes his mind and realises he wants something he can’t have? Not with me.”

Wayne gets up and rounds the table, makes a come here motion with his hands and pulls Eddie into his arms the moment he stands. He doesn’t comment on the sob Eddie can’t hold back any longer, just holds him tight.

   “You listen to me, Eddie. If I know anything, then it’s that Steve loves you. I could see it in his eyes the first time I met him and I still see it now, every time I see you together. The way he looks at you? Like you’ve hung the fucking moon. And I’m sure, if there’s ever anything missing in his life, he’ll move heaven and hell to make it right, together with you.”

Eddie can probably count on one hand the times he’s allowed himself to cry in front of Wayne, and that was only shortly after his old life had fallen apart. But right in this moment, he needs it more than ever. Feels like a kid again, despite his 26 years of age, as he buries himself deeper into his uncle’s embrace and lets his soothing words sink in.

Wayne is right.

Whatever it is, whatever problems they face, Steve would always try to make it work, proved it time and again in the seven years of their relationship and even before.

   “But you gotta talk to him. Can’t just keep it to yourself and hope it all goes away. We both know it’ll eat you up and then you’ll just end up doing something stupid.”

Eddie sniffs but huffs a laugh, remembers that one time Wayne had to give him a buzz cut as a kid, because he acted on impulse when he couldn’t take the teasing anymore from the boys in his class that kept calling him ‘an ugly girl’ for having long, wavy hair. Took the kitchen scissors and cut it so badly, shaving it all off was the only way it could be saved.

It wasn’t the first time he’d let his suppressed feelings boil up and explode, not the last time either, but he’s older now, maybe even a little bit wiser, knows there’s no shame in asking for help if he can’t do it alone.

   “Thanks, Wayne,” Eddie mumbles against the old man’s shoulder, gives his uncle one last squeeze before he’s ready to let go again.

-----

Steve sputters. Shoot, that's right. He's heard the girls gushing about the new priest in the halls. His long hair and dark, pretty eyes. The dimples in his smile. He tries to look beyond the ornate screen, but all he can make out is a shadowy figure.

“Wanna try again?”

“Don't talk to me like that,” Steve bristles. “My dad's chairman of the school council, he'll-”

“Ah,” the priest hums. “That makes you Mr. Harrington. I've heard all about you. You're captain of the swim and basketball teams.”

“That's right,” Steve huffs. “I've been busy. Those competitions are important.”

“More so than your immortal soul?”

Silence falls.

“You resent this, don't you?” the priest asks. “Coming here, laying yourself bare before a stranger. You think it's beneath you.”

Steve doesn't answer.

“You do know,” the man sighs, “that out of the seven cardinal sins, pride is the vilest, right? Because it keeps us from accepting guidance and help?”

Steve's nails dig into the bench. The stench of sage makes his head throb.

“You know that, if we do not confess our sins, we are inviting evil into our lives? Have you been tempted by evil, Steve?”

Steve's stomach sinks. Suddenly, he's seven years old again, getting caught while spacing out at Sunday school.

“Yes, father,” he admits. “I've been having … strange dreams.”

He can't bring himself to go into the details.

How all of the dreams feature the same man. How he can never recall his face once he wakes. Just the way his eyes burn - past flushed, naked skin and straight into your soul. How his fingers end in wickedly sharp nails that leave burning trails of pure, wanton lust all across your body. How his voice makes your blood boil and sends your head spinning, forcing you to heed his every command.

Kneel. Open wide. There's a good boy.

How some wicked, twisted part of him looks forward to these dreams.

The priest hums.

“Just as I feared. We have to act quickly to ward off the forces trying to lead you astray, and I need you to follow my every instruction. Can you do that?”

Steve nods. Remembers the man can't see him.

“Yes, father.”

“There's a good boy,” the man purrs. Something forbidden coils low in Steve's abdomen. “Now, you will kneel and pray for forgiveness. And tomorrow, you'll come back here. We have a lot of work ahead of us, if we want to bring you back on the right path.”

There’s a bell on the door of Radical Records that chimes merrily as Steve steps through, but a first cursory glance doesn’t reveal any staff, or even any other customers. He supposes it’s that weird, liminal time of early Saturday afternoons – close enough to lunch that people are still recovering from the meal, and far enough away from evening that they’ve not yet started to emerge for a night out. He pockets his tape and rubs his hands together, trying to get some warmth back into them – it’s already freezing outside and it’s only mid-October, but inside the shop the air is warm and smells faintly of coconut. 

Steve can’t see the person who is presumably the clerk on duty, but he can hear him, somewhere in the stacks singing along to Bad Company’s Bad Company, which is currently playing overhead, like he doesn’t know anyone is in the store and listening. It wouldn’t matter anyway – the guy has a great voice, and Steve starts perusing, rather enjoying the performance. 

He drifts to the display at the top of the aisle, front and centre near the register, and picks up Mötley Crüe’s new album, Dr. Feelgood – he’s heard good things about it – and turns it over to look at the track listing. Faintly, off to his side, he registers movement and footsteps, and a vaguely familiar man’s voice says; “That’s a good record – you want me to grab you a plastic-wrapped one from the back?” and Steve glances up to locate the speaker. 

And then it happens. 

The strangest thing to happen in a good long while. 

Eddie. 

It hits Steve like a gut punch – and as a man who has taken more than his fair share of punches, this feels exactly like that. It’s unmistakably Eddie; dark brown waves of hair to his shoulders, the lush mouth, the big sloe-brown eyes that traverse Steve’s face curiously, and rings that gleam as he points to the record in Steve’s hand and asks another question that doesn’t even permeate the crisis Steve is having. There’s a whorl of scarring that climbs the left side of Eddie’s neck, one silvery line just creeping over the edge of his jaw. That seems like proof alone that it’s really Eddie – because Steve has matching scars; on his torso, and the thin line around his neck from the bat that had tried to garrotte him. 

The air has been knocked clean out of him, and he feels his own throat working up and down silently, and Eddie’s eyebrow arches when Steve sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth, when he tries to force the air back into his lungs, because he thought– 

Well, he had thought nothing could surprise him anymore. 

“Huh?” he manages to force out, because he’s pretty sure that Eddie has repeated something about three times now and is starting to look at him with concern, and a wariness like he might be about to have some kind of medical episode, or is just a bit crazy. Maybe he is about to have a medical episode, because he fucking feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. Steve presses down on a mildly hysterical bubble of laughter, shoving it down deep, because he definitely already seems crazy and he’s got to keep it together because Eddie is looking nowhere near as shell-shocked to see Steve, as Steve is him.  

“I said, that’s a good record dude – you want me to grab you a brand new wrapped one from the back?” Eddie’s brow is still high, like he’s wholly unsure about Steve and his potentially fragile mental state. He runs his gaze over the planes and angles of Steve’s face again, a little furrow of confusion appearing, and Steve feels every part of that stare like a physical weight on his skin. 

Eddie is alive. 

“Eddie,” he chokes out, not hearing the question. “Eds.” 

He takes a step forward, but Eddie’s hands rise, palms outwards, and his look of confusion deepens. 

“You must have me mistaken for someone else, man,” Eddie says, with a nervous kind of chuckle and half a step backwards. He taps the badge at his chest, over his heart, the one that reads James. 

Steve does laugh at that, because of course Eddie would somehow survive being left for dead in a fucking hellscape and use it as fodder to fuck with Steve, just a little. He definitely deserves it, and hot, acrid guilt crawls up his throat, but he shoves it down to deal with later. “Come on dude, don’t mess around with me, yeah?” 

But Eddie just frowns and takes another small step back, and Steve searches his face, searches for something, because there’s– there’s no recognition in Eddie’s expression. He’s looking at Steve like he’s a slightly mental stranger, like they didn’t steal an RV together, like Eddie didn’t dive into a lake and through a goddamn snack-sized mouth of hell to fight bats with him, like they didn’t have a fucking heart-to-heart in the rotting underside of Hawkins, like Steve didn’t lose him. Eddie rubs at the left side of his jawbone absently, where his scar just creeps over the curve, and he’s still looking at Steve with confusion tugging at his mouth, and he doesn’t remember. 

Steve exhales and deflates, like air escaping a balloon. His throat feels inexplicably tight.