Chapter Text
It starts with Eddie moving into a new apartment-
Or, no, actually. It starts before that, kinda.
It starts with Jonathan buying weed off of him.
Now, Jonathan Byers buying weed off Eddie Munson is as natural as bees taking pollen from flowers. He’s been buying from Eddie since they were seniors in highschool- or, since Jonathan was a senior and Eddie was a super duper senior, rounding his final lap at Hawkins High.
He’d seen Jonathan around a lot, both of them being their class’s appointed Freaks, but Jonathan Byers was always a loner. He’d steered clear of Eddie and his gang, despite Eddie going through the trouble of actually inviting him to Hellfire in Jonathan’s freshman year- to which he’d gotten a polite but tense turn down. And Eddie didn’t think anything of it, focused on the new recruit, Gareth, and his potential to beat drums like a nun at a Catholic School.
So for the next three years it was mostly catching Jonathan’s eye across the hallway as Tommy H “accidentally” knocked into him, terse nods of “I see you, you see me,” unspoken sympathy as they watched each other brave the looks, the laughs, the scoffs.
Until the guy turned up at Eddie’s trailer with a twenty and first-time buyer’s jitters. Then, every other week like clock-work the two would meet and exchange cash for some pot and chit-chat, the conversations growing longer until Byers was less a customer and more a pal who also bought off of him.
“You know, out of all my buyers, you’re my best Byers,” Eddie always said in lieu of a goodbye, smirking at his own pun. Yeah, Jonathan always rolled his eyes but it was funny. One day he’d admit that.
Even now that they’re both graduated, Jonathan off at some fancy school in New York while Eddie had escaped Hawkins for the call of the Chicago music scene, they still see each other every so often. A couple times when they both happened to be visiting their folks in Hawkins and most recently when Eddie woke up to a text on his cracked phone that said Jonathan was in the Windy City for school break, complete with some little leaf emojis.
And this time, like every time they get together, they end up in a smokey game of catch-up, ranting about their respective snobbery- Jonathan’s photography, Eddie’s music- and Jonathan leaves twenty bucks shorter and a couple grams heavier.
“Oh,” Byers says, cutting off Eddie’s hilarious ‘buyers’ pun as he leans on the front door, playing idly with the knob. “I think you said something about your roommate moving out-”
He’d spent about an hour ranting about how his roommate had up and moved out- not totally unexpected when you find roomies on Craigslist- and he couldn’t afford his shitty fourth floor walk-up on his own anymore, but Jonathan had never been a very attentive listener when he was stoned.
“I have this friend who’s new in town and looking for a roommate.. It’s a two bedroom, I think- I can put you in contact? You probably know him, he went to school with us- fuck, uh..” his red-rimmed eyes dift and he blinks hard, trying to remember the name. It comes to him as he runs his hands through his shaggy bowl cut. “Steve Harrington?”
Eddie laughs- Jonathan was always funny as hell but not usually on purpose like this.
“You are hilarious, Byers,” he claps the other guy on the back and plays along. “Sorry but I’m already in talks with Bin Laden and, if we’re being real, I’m way more confident in that guys ability to respect communal spaces-“
Jonathan shakes his head. “No, I’m for real. Harrington needs a roommate.”
Eddie laughs again- this time incredulously.
Harrington had been a douche, just like the rest of his sportsball-playing ilk. He may not have tortured Eddie specifially- but he’d seen enough of Harrington and his general brand of asshole to know exactly what kind of guy he was.
Douchebag Harrington flirted with girls in class so they’d help him with his homework or let him cheat off them. Douchebag Harrington threw parties most weekends because his upper-crust parents were never home. He laughed when Tommy would ‘bump’ into kids in the hallway but would play good cop when it suited him.
Douchebag Harrington broke Jonathan’s camera in the parking lot his sophomore year just so he could play macho man.
Eddie knew Jonathan and Harrington buried whatever hatchet they had at the end of school. Knew that something happened Harrington’s Junior or senior year and suddenly he’d stepped down from his throne, maybe because he lost a fight with Billy Hargrove and had to sign over the rights to his golden keg.
Then he was spotted working shitty dead-end jobs at the mall and babysitting on the side. He’d even been spotted driving band kids to school, which kept the Hawkins High rumor mill busy for a few weeks.
But it doesn’t matter to Eddie. He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. He has ethics . And at the top of the list is don’t live with guys who used to bully innocent weirdos for fun.
He holds on to his ethics until the end of the month.
That’s about how long it takes before lack of funds, zero answers to his ad for a roomie from anyone remotely sane, and a lack of safe couches to surf on brings him crawling to Steve Harrington’s DMs.
And the Steve Harrington who answers his messages texts back promptly. He texts in an almost dorkishly polite tone. He asks follow up questions about Eddie’s music like he’s actually interested, uses emojis way too often and unironically.
It’s almost funny- how normal he seems over text.
The Harrington who meets up with Eddie for coffee to talk about moving logistics and insists on paying for his frappe, invites him out for a second coffee when they finally shake on the deal, just to hang out - that guy asks for too much caramel drizzle in his iced coffee and treats them both to blueberry turnovers.
It’s a little bit surprising, how thoughtful he is.
It’s even more surprising how easy their conversations are, when Eddie thought Steve wouldn’t have any opinions past who’s the best shortstop in the linebackers of whatever football team. This Steve has a lot to say; he’s open and smiley and quick to play off of Eddie’s banter.
The Steve who helps Eddie carry his boxes from his van to his new room in the cushy little two-bedroom (with an elevator, which Eddie’s knees are so thankful for), who whistles as he helps Eddie cut open the tape and stands leaning against the doorframe while Eddie insists- despite protest- on doing the rest himself- this Steve Harrington is not the Steve Harrington Eddie remembers from school.
And it’s got Eddie kind of blown away- how someone can be so... Changed. Or different from who Eddie thought he was.
So, yeah. They move in together. And slowly over a day or two all the boxes are unpacked, Eddie’s mugs next to Steve’s in the kitchen cabinets and his 5-in-1 next to Steve’s three-step regimen of shampoo, conditioner, and hair mask in the shower.
“I think,” Steve puts his hands on his hips as he looks around Eddie’s finally finished room, all guitar amps and skull tapestries, “this calls for pizza and a couple brewskis.”
Brewskis. Eddie gives an airy laugh. It definitely calls for brewskis.
Steve is a tried and true Indiana boy- corny as hell. He drinks brewskis and orders ‘za and calls Eddie roomie . And unlike when Eddie says those exact things, it’s not a bit. He’s just like that, earnestly.
They crack open a couple of Heinekens and toast with sausage and mushroom pizza. Steve scours Netflix and settles on The Office- Eddie thinks the show’s kinda basic but he smiles when Steve is absolutely rocked with the knowledge that Eddie’s never actually seen it.
He takes in Steve’s smile, lips wet with a little bit of beer at the corners, the way his hair bounces with how animatedly he goes on and on about how Eddie has to see this, I can’t believe you haven't seen this. Steve Carrell, man, he’s a legend- oh, my god, I love that this is going to be your first time. And the theme song is iconic!
Eddie pushes away the familiar warm feeling blooming in his chest and forces his eyes on the TV as the theme song plays and Steve hums along.
They end up getting through five episodes, pizza and beer absolutely demolished and the remains left on the coffee table by the time episode two is over. Steve crosses his arms snug against his chest and untucks them to wave a finger at the TV when he has an interesting behind the scenes factoid or commentary on the detailed camera work.
Eventually Steve yawns and stretches, his ratty old t-shirt riding up a little. He claps Eddie on the back, his palm warm and Eddie refuses to analyze exactly how long it stays there.
(Just shy of five seconds. Infuriatingly just short enough to be inconspicuous but just long enough to read into. If you were going to. Which Eddie doesn’t.)
“Welp, time to hit the hay. I got work in the morning.”
“Yeah,” he nods, making no move to follow when Steve stands.
“We should watch the rest together,” Steve mentions, rocking on his heels. “It’s so worth it, man. And there’s a lot of cool bloopers, too. You like it, right? Because, I mean- we don’t have to if you don’t.”
Steve’s lopsided smile, earnest and thoughtful makes him flush. Eddie nods and tries to not give anything away when he agrees, a breathy “yeah, I- I really like it. That sounds.. cool.”
He waves Steve off and waits for the finality of the click of his bedroom door before he reaches behind him to grab the couch cushion and shove his face into it.
Because, yeah he really liked the show. But mostly he liked how much Steve liked it- the jokes were funny but Eddie was only half watching by the end, kept sneaking glances at Steve mouthing lines and smirking preemptively because he knew what was coming next. He was so into it- and Jesus Christ, Eddie was into him.
Steve Harrington is cute; he’s not just cute, he’s dorky and casual and warm and nice and he wore those weirdly short basketball shorts to lounge around in today.
He screams silently, trying to force all the tension out of his body and into the pillow.
And Eddie feels pathetic, how quickly he recognizes the tell-tale rosy tint the world takes on when he can make Steve laugh with a dirty joke or a silly little voice.
But none of that matters, because if there was one thing Steve Harrington was known for in high school aside from being a jock extraordinaire, it was being straight. He had a list of girls a mile long by his Junior year. Rumors of just how into girls he was even reached the hallowed door of Hellfire club.
(Eddie doesn’t remember the context but he does know he had called Rachel a traitor for mentioning Steve’s name during a meeting, saying something about him helping her with her books.
“I’m just saying he’s nice! And you can’t say he’s not cute-“
”A nice asshole is an oxymoron, Rach. And there’s literally nothing attractive about Steve Harrington.”
Oh if Eddie knew how badly he’d be eating those words…)
He feels stupid, to say it’s a crush. A handful of hours over a couple coffees (not-dates) and two days in the same apartment does not a crush make. But there’s no denying the fluttering in his stomach, the little baby butterflies threatening to make Eddie nauseous.
He takes a breath, the pillow still shoved in his face making him really make an effort to suck the air into his lungs. Slow.
His cheeks are still warm.
The front door bangs open in the hall and Eddie’s stomach leaps up into his throat about as fast as he leaps up from the couch, pillow in hand, raised like a shield.
And a few knocks, stumbles, and ohh fuck s later, a girl stumbles in to the living room.
A girl who definitely is not him or Steve and so definitely doesn’t live there.
Eddie furrows his brows as she shucks off her coat and tosses it with her messenger bag onto the couch, nearly hitting his pillow-shield.
She’s absolutely off her ass on something, her sandy brown hair mussed and her berry lipstick smudged. She doesn’t spot Eddie until she’s done wrenching her boots off, bent down and using the back of the couch as support, she looks up and makes bleary eye contact. Eddie can’t raise his eyebrows any higher if he tried.
She smiles, bleary and a little dopey.
“Ohhhhh,” the drunk girl says, delighted, like she’s just seen a dog across the street. “ Eddie.”
Pillow shield down, for now.
“That’s.. Me,” he mutters. “Salutations.”
“Bless you.” She finishes yanking her boots off and leaves them there, behind the couch.
Eddie has never been one to know what to do in situations where he doesn’t have his lines ready. Impromptu game-play, he can do. He preps for that, readies characters in his back pocket and has years of experience under his belt of reacting to moves he hadn’t even remotely prepared his players to make.
But a drunk girl showing up in his living room- who knows him?- that’s not something he has any experience in. So he watches the girl go through the motions, stretch her arms and disappear into the kitchen, coming back chugging a glass of water.
“Can I ask your name?” Eddie says, cutting the silence.
The sandy-haired girl stops glugging down her glass of water and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Ohmygod,” she gasps, slurring just a little. “I’m so sorry- I’m Robin.”
She says that like it explains it. And kind of, it does, because Eddie’s brain supplies him with the memory of a girl in Jonathan’s year- a Robin who was in band and.. Not much else. Was this her?
“That’s cool- but that doesn’t explain why you are… here,” he says bluntly. “Also was the door open because I thought I locked it-”
“Shhhit- I promise I’m not, like, a burglar-” She’d be doing a really shitty job if she was- “I have a key! Steve gave it to me. He did tell you I was coming, right?”
No.
“Yeah,” Eddie nods, unconvincing.
She feigns offense, shaking her head. “I can’t believe he didn’t mention me. Some soulmate he is.”
Oh.
And suddenly Eddie remembers exactly who Robin is. In school she was a background character kind of girl, quiet in class and at the back of the marching band always the character with the least lines in theater. Unassuming, nobody.
Until she’d been seen getting out of recent graduate Steve Harrington’s car, who’d driven her to a morning pep rally despite not even going there anymore.
Robin had been no one, just some quiet girl at the back of the band, in the middle of the theater ensemble- and then just like that, her name was on the tongue of every gossip in school for months. Even Eddie had heard about the two of them, seen arriving and leaving basketball and football games together, a couple so attached at the hip they even worked the same jobs.
And they were still together, apparently. Real high school sweethearts. Soulmates.
Of course.
Robin confirms even the question of Steve’s sexuality- or, at the very least, makes it unimportant. Steve Harrington could have had the worlds biggest, loudest bisexual awakening after high school but none of that matters because he has a girlfriend.
A soulmate.
Eddie nods through Robin apologizing for the intrusion, nods through her saying nice to meet you or see you again I guess- I’m gonna go crash, keeps nodding through her disappearing into Steve’s room.
It’s fine. It’s fine because Steve’s his roommate, his roommate of only two days, a guy who is dating a very nice and fairly drunk girl, his girlfriend of like four fucking years or whatever.
And that’s all fine because it's so much better to know now; to know before the little butterflies that were tickling him from the inside earlier, their little wings flapping like crazy over Steve’s laugh, got loose.
It's easier, now that he knows not only is Steve his roommate but he’s also in a relationship and doubly off-limits, and the butterflies are small enough that Eddie is sure he can squash them. Seal his mouth tight and suffocate them.
He has to. He will.
He sighs, tossing the throw pillow onto the couch with maybe a little too much force. He drags his feet to his bedroom, very pointedly not looking at Steve’s door. He keeps dragging himself all the way to his bed, where he faceplants into his excessive amount of pillows.
The bed’s tucked against the wall in the corner- it's safe and stable and Eddie rolls over so his face is about an inch away from the thickly painted white walls.
He decides that Steve’s going to do something to give him the ick soon enough- something like sending Eddie lame videos of obviously staged couple pranks but Steve thinks it’s actually funny. Or consistently forgetting to wring out the dish sponge until it smells like mildew. Or revealing he’s into feet. Something. And then Eddie won’t have to even worry about it. Because it’ll die before it even really begins! So it’s fine. Or it will be.
Eddie pulls his comforter up and over his shoulders, over his head till he’s wrapped up like a swaddled baby in winter.
This, too, shall pass, dumbass.