Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Steve Harrington is ten years old, he wakes up whimpering in the middle of the night with a stuffy, runny nose, a raging fever, and the worst headache he’s ever had.

It isn’t the first time he’s ever been sick, obviously (he can still remember the time he and Tommy H. got Strep Throat when they were in second grade, when his mom begrudgingly dragged Steve to the doctor for medicine), but it’s definitely the worst he’s ever felt. His body is sore all over – joints screaming in protest whenever he shifts to try to get more comfortable – and he’s lying in what feels like an entire pool of his own sweat.

It’s completely miserable.

So, he does what most ten year-olds would do when faced with being sick: he goes to get his parents.

Sure, his dad hates it when Steve bothers them in the middle of the night, and his mom is always annoyed whenever it happens, but this felt emergent. Steve can hardly stand upright when he drags himself out of bed, with how dizzy he feels. His eyes sting with tears by the time he’s made it to his mom’s side of his parents’ bed, and he prays that maybe, just this once, they won’t be upset with him.

“Mom?” he croaks in a small, teary voice. When she doesn’t respond, he reaches out and gives her shoulder a light shake. “Mom?”

Susan Harrington wakes with a start, then huffs with irritation when she sees the cause. “It’s the middle of the night, Steven,” she whispers harshly. “What do you want?”

“I…” Steve mumbles. His bottom lip is beginning to tremble. “I don’t feel good. My stomach hurts, and my nose is stuffy, and my head hurts, and I’m all sweaty and hot and-”

“Are you dying, Steven?”

Steve’s heart lurches at the sound of his dad’s voice coming from across the room. He hoped to avoid waking him at all costs. “I… I don’t think so?” he replies hesitantly.

“Then what the hell are you doing, waking us up in the middle of the damn night?” his dad spits.

“I just… I feel really, really sick,” Steve half-pleads. “Isn’t there medicine or-”

“Medicine,” Steve’s dad grumbles. “For a goddamn headache and a little fever. Christ, Steven, be a man, stop crying, and get your ass back to bed now. Do you understand me? You’re ten years old. You shouldn’t be whining to us in the middle of the night about feeling a little sick anymore. You’re fine. ”

Steve swallows the growing lump in his sore throat and nods quickly, despite the way the motion jostles his pounding head. “Yes, sir.”

And Steve does exactly what his father asks. He drags himself back to bed, climbs under the damp covers, and lays shivering – drifting between wakefulness and sleep – until the sun comes up. When his mom wakes him up for school, he gets ready without questioning it. His parents don’t seem to see a problem with the way he can barely stand, so Steve figures he’s just overreacting. He’s fine.

When he arrives at school, however, his teacher takes one look at him and sends him straight to the nurse’s office, where he’s suddenly being fussed over by a woman he’s only seen once or twice in his life. She holds her hand gently to his forehead as she carefully sticks a thermometer under his tongue to take his temperature, and Steve blearily wonders if it’s odd that he can’t remember the last time his own mother touched him like this.

“God, kiddo,” the nurse mutters when the little device finally beeps. “You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine,” Steve says with a shrug.

She frowns at him and shakes her head. “You’re not fine, kid. You’ve got a ‘hundred and two degree fever and probably the flu. You should be at home.”

What happens next is a bit of a blur to Steve, but he vaguely remembers, even years later, how annoyed his mom is when she has to come and pick him up. He made her late for some luncheon at the tennis club, or whatever. When his dad gets home that evening, he yells at Steve for being weak.

His words echo in Steve’s ears all night. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine.

It’s four more days before Steve’s fever breaks for long enough for him to go back to school, and he’s never been more relieved to walk into Ms. Walker’s fourth grade classroom in his life.

The next time he gets sick, his parents are out of town.

And it’s alright, because Steve is fine.

The headaches start after the Mindflayer.

In a sterile exam room at Hawkins Medical center, three weeks after his run-in with the Russians, some doctor in a white coat tells Steve that he wants to run a few scans, given the amount of head trauma Steve may have sustained in the “mall fire”. A day later, in the same room, the same doc spits out a bunch of words Steve doesn’t totally understand, but he gets the general gist of it.

Repeated head traumas. Multiple concussions. Permanent damage. Loss of sixty percent of his hearing in his left ear. Probably needs glasses. Might have chronic headaches forever.

Great. Just fucking great.

He leaves the hospital and drives to his new job at Family Video, sighing before climbing out of his car and putting on a convincing smile for Robin, who’s already there.

He doesn’t tell her about the appointment.

He’s fine.

A week later, Steve learns that when he gets his weird, new headaches, light hurts. It makes him feel like someone is pressing at his eyeballs from inside his skull. Noise hurts too, when he tries to close his eyes and listen to the radio. It’s still early enough in the morning that it’s dark outside, so for a little while, he lays in bed in complete silence, but sooner or later, sunlight begins to peek through the gaps in his blinds, and he can’t take it.

He ends up in the cold, dark basement, huddled beneath a pile of blankets and thanking whatever the fuck is up in the sky that he’s got the day off already. No matter what he does, the pounding in his head just won’t stop, but he knows he wouldn’t have been able to work like this. Calling off wouldn’t have been an option, though, because he’s only had this new job for a couple of weeks.

Besides, if he called off, he’d have to give a reason to Robin.

And if Robin knew, Dustin probably would, eventually, too.

But they don’t need to know. It’s not a big deal. It’s just a dumb headache, and Steve was a big boy.

You’re fine, a voice in Steve’s head that sounds suspiciously like his dad tells him. You’re fine.

The voice is right.

Steve is fine.

It takes a few months, but eventually, Steve figures out what triggers his headaches (which are apparently called migraines) through a lot of trial and error.

Stress is one.

Lack of sleep is another.

Oddly, as he discovers after one too many nights hanging out with Robin while she does her nails, so is the smell of nail polish.

The last one is an easy fix. The other two… not so much. But once he knows, Steve can work with them. He stops taking girls out on dates and staying out late into the night so he can try to be in bed before eleven o’clock every night. He stops ignoring Robin’s constant stream of new recommendations for stress reduction, which she’s become obsessed with ever since their Scoops days (and… yeah, Steve guesses that’s fair). He pretends to be humoring her when she teaches him new breathing exercises, then secretly uses them whenever he feels himself getting overwhelmed. He keeps a little spray bottle of oil that smells like lavender next to his bed, because that shit is a goddamned miracle – it helps him sleep and it helps with stress.

It’s not ideal, keeping these recurrent headaches a secret from all of his friends, and sure, he’s had his fair share of days where he’s been forced to just work through the pain (he’s gotten better at it, over time), but he’s making it work. He’s managing.

He’s fine.

By the time Spring Break of 1986 rolls around, Steve is pretty damn good at managing stress… but there’s no breathing exercise in the world cut out to help him deal with Eddie Munson.

The guy is like the human embodiment of chaos, even after all of the shit with Vecna is over. He’s got this manic glint in his eyes that always makes Steve feel like he’s plotting something, even if they’re just getting milkshakes with Robin at Penny’s Diner. He’ll go from being achingly soft-spoken to deafeningly loud in the span of four seconds. He’s constantly in motion, bouncing all over the place like a ball in a pinball machine at the arcade Steve takes the kids to sometimes (which, incidentally, is Migraine Trigger Number Four).

He’s completely off-the-wall, a little bit crazy, and Steve is prepared to, at best, begrudgingly accept him as the newest member of their rag-tag group of monster slayers.

Needless to say, it’s a real shock when Steve realizes he actually kind of likes the guy.

Because even though Eddie is loud, and chaotic, and maybe even a tiny bit insane, he’s also one of the best people Steve has ever met. He’s quiet and attentive when it matters, and for someone who seems perfectly happy to live in the spotlight at all times, he’s freakishly observant.

It’s Eddie who notices first when El’s social battery starts to run low. It’s Eddie who comes out to Robin, because he’s noticed the hurt in her eyes when she sees Vickie with her boyfriend and guessed that Robin could use a friend who understands what she’s going through. It’s Eddie who gives Max a spare key to his trailer, just in case she ever needs to get away from her mom after a night of drinking.

He does all of these things quietly, without drawing any attention to them. Steve only knows about them because the girls told him.

So of course, it’s Eddie who is the first one out of their entire group to acknowledge that Steve is acting weird when they’re all hanging out and he starts to feel a headache coming on.

They’re at the quarry for a day of swimming when he starts to feel the familiar ache behind his eyes – a sure sign that soon, his head will be throbbing mercilessly. It’s happened before, when all of them were hanging out, but if anyone’s ever noticed Steve’s instant shift in demeanor, they’ve never said anything.

That was before Eddie Munson, though.

“Hey, man,” Eddie says, plopping down beside Steve in the back of Eddie’s own van. They’ve got the back doors opened up and a picnic blanket strewn out across the open back of the van, where Steve is sitting with his legs dangling off the edge.

“Hey,” Steve says hesitantly. He and Eddie don’t talk much, one-on-one. He’s not really sure what to do with the other guy’s undivided attention.

Eddie studies him for a moment while Steve pretends not to notice, then, he says, “You doin’ alright over there?”

The question catches Steve off guard, after having gone a full year without anyone noticing his plight. He’s so surprised that he’s got no choice but to answer honestly.

“It’s just a headache,” he says. Then, dismissively, he adds, “I’m fine.”

Eddie frowns, and Steve is almost positive that the other man has seen through his lie – has heard the pain in Steve’s voice. He wonders if Eddie will call him out for it.

Instead, Eddie looks at him seriously, with a surprising amount of concern in his eyes. “You sure, dude?”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a shrug. “I get them all the time. Nothing new, honestly.”

The statement is objectively true. He just leaves out the part about the excruciating pain that sometimes makes him throw up, and the way light makes him want to shrivel up and die. He’ll hopefully be home before it gets that bad, so there’s no need for Eddie to know.

Besides, Steve is fine.

He half expects Eddie to keep needling him about it (and, honestly, isn’t sure whether or not he wants him to), but Eddie doesn’t do that at all. He simply hums thoughtfully, stares for a moment, then gets up to walk around the side of the van and pull something out of the glove compartment.

When he returns, he sits next to Steve again… and plops a baggie with three perfectly rolled joints into Steve’s hand.

“Here,” Eddie says, gently closing Steve’s fingers over the little bag, then giving his hand a little pat. “I sell to a couple of people who use it for chronic headaches and shit like that. Apparently it helps, or something. You should try it.”

Steve blinks down at his closed hand, then at Eddie. “Really?” he asks stupidly.

“Yeah, man,” Eddie says. He lays back until his head is resting on the picnic blanket behind them and stares up at the ceiling. “Dunno if it’ll work for you, but… worth a try, right?”

Steve finds himself nodding automatically, then reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “Thanks for the tip, man,” he says genuinely. “How much do I owe you?”

Suddenly, Eddie props himself up on his elbows and levels Steve with a confused frown. “I- what?”

“How much do I owe you?” Steve asks again, more slowly, as though maybe Eddie just misheard him.

Eddie cocks an eyebrow and huffs out a laugh. “Nothing, obviously,” he says. “Call it a friends and family discount, or some shit.”

“A discount?” Steve asks incredulously. He’s so shocked that he nearly forgets about the growing pain in his head. “Dude, a discount would be like, fifty percent off or something. Not free.”

“Oookay, fine,” Eddie laughs. “It’s a gift, then.”

Steve wonders, madly, if maybe hallucinations are some sort of new symptom, all of a sudden. “Dude, this is like… a lot of stuff. You’d probably get some good money for this…” He wants to keep going,  but Eddie is smirking at him and wagging a finger, and it makes his voice trail off.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Eddie chides. “Not happening, Stevie. Munson gifts come with no return policy. You have to keep it now, or I’ll be mortally offended forever.” He jumps up before Steve’s aching mind (which is now reeling from Eddie calling him Stevie, like they’re the sort of friends who call each other nicknames) can come up with a solid argument, and Steve is left to pocket the joints while Eddie starts to round up the kids, yelling something about how he’s got a surprise campaign planned, so they should all head over to the Byers’ new place to set up.

Unsurprisingly, it gets everyone out of the water pretty quickly, and Steve trudges over to his own car, leaning against the driver’s seat door and closing his eyes behind his sunglasses. His headache is getting steadily worse, but at least now he’ll be able to get home sooner than he thought. Eddie always takes the kids home after D&D sessions, since only Max, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike need rides from the Byers, and they can all fit in his van.

Within an hour, Steve is at home in his basement lighting up a joint from Hawkins’ most metal dealer.

Miraculously, the pain in his head dulls, slightly, and he feels a bit better.

It’s not until later that night, when he’s past the worst of the pain and preparing to drift off to sleep, that Steve realizes that Eddie probably didn’t really have plans for a campaign that day.

The unexpected announcement… rounding the kids up early…

Eddie had done it for Steve.

A little less than one month after Eddie gives him the three joints and wrangles the gremlins just to make Steve’s life a little easier, Steve tells him about the migraines. Properly, this time.

They’re hanging out, just the two of them, at Steve’s place in the middle of the night after one too many nightmares brought Eddie to the Harrington abode. It’s only August, and the air is still warm and humid, even at night, so they’re sitting with their legs dangling in the pool while they sip their beers.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington,” Eddie says when he finishes describing the way the headaches sometimes hurt so much he can’t even keep food down. “How long has this been going on, exactly?”

Steve hesitates for a moment before sighing and turning his gaze to the sight of his own bare feet, slowly swinging back and forth in the clear waters of his backyard pool. “A year… maybe a little longer,” he admits after a pause.

Eddie gives a low whistle and shakes his head. He’s frowning at the water when Steve chances a glance at him. “Shit…” Eddie murmurs. “Who else knows about this?”

Steve’s responding laugh falls flat. “Um… the doctor I saw at Hawkins General?” He can’t bring himself to look at what he knows will be the pitying expression on Eddie’s face, and he’s afraid Eddie will force him to tell the others. God, Steve just can’t stand the thought of them knowing. Not when they rely on him to be the strong one.

Eddie’s voice when he finally speaks is gentle and soft, though, and it makes Steve feel a bit like crying. “You haven’t told anyone?”

Steve only shakes his head.

“Not even Wheeler? Henderson? Shit, Steve, not even Buckley?”

To Eddie’s credit, Nancy, Dustin, and Robin are the three people Steve has considered telling most often, but he’s just never gotten around to it. Nancy would be hellbent on fixing the problem, and Robin would worry, and Dustin would be a confusing, infuriating mix of both, and Steve doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want anyone to worry about him, or for anyone to feel like he needs help. Not with something as stupid as a headache.

He’s fine.

“No,” Steve says. He glances over at Eddie, who’s looking at him with a frown. “I just don’t want to freak them out, you know? And I know they’ll want to try to, like, cure me, or something, but even the doctors don’t really know how to stop them, so it’d be useless. Anyways, they’re just headaches. I’m fine.”

Eddie’s frown deepens when Steve tries to wave him off, and Steve almost wishes he hadn’t told Eddie about the migraines at all. There’s just something about the guy that makes Steve want to tell him about the things he usually keeps hidden. He’s not sure whether he likes it or hates it.

“Harrington, no offense, but nothing about these headaches sounds fine,” Eddie says after a pause.

Steve huffs in frustration and doesn’t bother dignifying Eddie’s words with a response. Steve knows himself. He knows what’s fine and what’s not. And he’s fine.

“Come on, man, don’t scoff at me for caring,” Eddie sighs. “And stop feeling like you need to hide shit from everyone else. They just want to help.”

“Yeah, well I don’t need their help,” Steve growls. He feels exposed and weak and far too seen. He just wants to be alone. He wishes Eddie would leave it alone.

“Stevie, if you’d just-”

“Oh, shut up, Munson!” Steve snaps, yanking his feet out of the water and rising to his feet. “Stop talking to me like you know me. You don’t. You’re just some guy we hang out with now because of the shared trauma shit. You have no idea what I need help with. I don’t want help from Nancy, or Robin, or fucking Dustin who’s just a fucking kid, and I definitely don’t want it from you. So lay off, man. I’m fine.”

Regret starts to seep into Steve’s pores the moment he finishes his rant, but he can’t bring himself to take any of his words back. Lashing out is how he’s protected himself his whole life, and that’s what he’s doing now – protecting himself from Eddie’s curious glances and prodding questions and attempts at helping. Now, Eddie will leave him alone, and even though Steve’s heart aches with the knowledge, he still feels a bit relieved. He’s been taking care of himself for a long time. He doesn’t want to get used to someone else doing it for him.

When his eyes finally land on Eddie again, he’s staring at Steve, angry and silent.

They’re locked in a staring contest for a long time.

“Y’know, Harrington…” Eddie finally says coldly. “When we were in high school, I really thought you meant all of the douchey shit you used to say. I thought you laughed at Hagan’s jokes because you thought they were funny. But you didn’t. It was all an act, just like whatever posturing you’re doing now is an act, too. I know that now, and honestly, Harrington? I don’t know which is worse...” Eddie stands slowly and advances until he’s right in Steve’s face, eyes alight with anger. “You being a dick because it was really who you were, or you knowing what an asshole you were and doing it anyways.”

Steve’s eyes widen. He feels pinned to the spot, like a butterfly to a board. Guilt is rushing through his veins, and there’s a pleading apology on the tip of his tongue, but his mouth feels like it’s been glued shut. He can’t bring himself to say anything.

“You can’t hide behind King Steve, anymore,” Eddie says simply. “Not with those of us who know better. So, when you decide you’re done being a dick, call me. Until then, stay the fuck away.”

He disappears without another word, letting himself out through the gate that leads to the front yard, and Steve feels a lump forming in his throat. He wants to run after Eddie, to tell him he’s sorry and he didn’t mean any of it, and that he just got scared because he’s not used to someone being able to see him the way Eddie does.

But he doesn’t.

Because Steve doesn’t need Eddie Munson. He doesn’t need anyone.

He’s fine.

Steve doesn’t see Eddie for over a week after their argument in his backyard.

It’s the longest they’ve gone without seeing each other since Vecna, and Steve is a little shocked by just how much he misses the obnoxious metalhead. It makes him feel off-kilter, knowing that there won’t be any surprise visits from Eddie during his shifts at Family Video, and knowing that neither of them will be knocking on each other's doors at midnight to cure insomnia with a joint or two. It kills him a little bit, but he still doesn’t apologize. It’s been too long, now. He’s left it to fester for too long, and he knows that nothing he says will ever really be able to make it better.

So he does his best to forget about it.

Honestly, Steve should probably see the migraine coming, considering how much sleep he’s lost over the whole Eddie situation over the last week. But, like an idiot, he’s ignored all of the warning signs (the fatigue, the irritability, the weird food cravings) for the last two days, and it comes back to bite him while he’s out for an aimless drive around Hawkins, trying to organize his thoughts.

His heart drops when he notices the shimmer – tiny and seemingly innocuous – in the corner of his vision. This is how the worst ones start… with a visual aura that begins as a little shimmer and quickly grows into dizzying, wavy lines that obstruct almost his entire field of vision. He’s only got about ten minutes or so before he can barely see… a half hour (maximum) before the headache hits… and he’s forty minutes from home, having driven out onto the backroads between the cornfields just to clear his head.

He is so, so fucked.

He makes it to the outskirts of Hawkins before he’s forced to pull over, when the shimmery blob has made it practically impossible to see well enough to drive safely. He steers the Beemer off to the side of the road, throws it into park, and slumps forward to rest his head on the steering wheel.

He’ll never be able to make it home – not with the head-splitting pain he’s about to be in – which means he’s going to be stuck out here in his car all night, riding out a migraine on the side of the road.

He manages to hold back the tears brimming in the corners of his eyes for only a moment before they go spilling over the edge, and Steve Harrington starts to cry.

He’s exhausted, he’s afraid (if he’s honest), and he desperately wishes he had a way of calling someone… but his walkie isn’t quite as fancy as the ones Dustin and his friends have, so it’ll never reach the others, even if he tries to call for help. Everyone lives close to the center of town, except the Byers, who live way on the opposite side, and…

And Eddie, who only just moved into a little house on the edge of town with Wayne a couple of weeks ago. A house that can’t be more than a mile or two from where Steve is now.

But Steve can’t call Eddie for help – not after the horrible things he said the last time they saw each other. He hasn’t even apologized yet. He’s not even sure Eddie would forgive him if he did.

No, he can’t call Eddie. He won’t call Eddie. He’ll figure this out.

He’s fine.

The headache hits twenty minutes after Steve pulls over onto the side of the road, and it’s one of the worst he’s ever had.

His head throbs behind his left eye, so badly he’s certain he’s going to throw up at some point during this one. Chills wrack his entire body and he shivers, even though it’s barely September and it’s seventy degrees outside. He feels dizzy, exhausted, and like he might scream from the pain if he didn’t know that the sound would make it even worse.

He hardly even realizes it when, through the haze of pain, he reaches for his walkie and pushes the talk button.

“Eddie?” he says, voice breaking on the second syllable.

There’s no reply.

“Eddie, it’s…” He stops to sniffle and wipe a few tears away. “It’s Steve, and I… I need help.”

He lets out a sob the moment his finger lifts off of the talk button and waits, praying that Eddie might be able to forgive him for long enough to at least hear him out.

It must be nearly a minute later when he hears the walkie crackle, followed by a familiar voice on the other end. “Where are you, Harrington?” Eddie asks, and Steve could cry, he’s so relieved.

“Um… I’m on State Route 11, just outside of Hawkins?” he replies hesitantly. “I’m stuck, and it hurts, and I just…” This time, he doesn’t get his finger off of the button in time to hide the sob. “Please, Eddie…” he whispers.

Another pause, though this one isn’t quite as long as the first. “Sit tight, Harrington. I’m on my way.”

By the time Eddie’s van pulls up beside Steve’s car, Steve is hunched over in the passenger seat, cradling his head between his hands and feeling nauseous with the pain, so he jumps in surprise when he hears a light tapping on the window.

He looks up to see Eddie’s concerned face peering through, then unlocks the door.

“Stevie…” Eddie says softly. His voice is so gentle it makes Steve want to cry – no, scratch that. It actually makes him cry, because even after everything Steve said that night, Eddie is still kind to him. Steve doesn’t deserve it.

But fuck, he is so far from fine, right now.

He feels a hand on his arm, sees Eddie crouch at the side of the car, now frowning up at Steve. “I need you to talk to me, Stevie. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Another sob claws its way out of Steve’s throat as a fresh wave of tears spills from his eyes. “Migraine,” he croaks. “Couldn’t see. Had to-” He hiccups, then sniffles. “Had to pull over.”

“And now you can’t drive safely because of the pain, and the light sensitivity and stuff?” Eddie asks, understanding in his tone.

Steve just nods. He feels pathetic. He feels weak.

His father had called him that so many times when he was younger – weak. His weakling son, destined to disappoint.

Maybe his father was right.

“Okay,” Eddie says softly, gently squeezing Steve’s arm. “Okay, we can work with this. But we’re gonna have to leave your car here overnight, ‘kay?”

Steve is in too much pain to give even the slightest fuck about his car right now, so he simply nods again.

Eddie nods too, running a hand through his long curls and sighing tiredly. Steve can’t really blame him. Steve basically derailed his whole night over a stupid headache.

Eddie’s face when he looks at Steve again is nothing but soft, concerned eyes and a sad frown, though. There’s not a trace of annoyance, and Steve can’t understand it. “Let’s get you home, then,” Eddie says.

He helps Steve out of the car and half-carries him to the passenger seat of his van, shutting the door as softly as he can once he’s sure Steve is secured safely. It’s a small gesture, and it doesn’t really mean anything, but to Steve… it means everything. It means that even when Steve yells at Eddie, interrupts his evening because Steve was too stupid to take care of himself, Eddie still cares enough to make sure he doesn’t slam the door loudly and make Steve’s headache even worse.

“I don’t want help,” Steve had said that night by his pool, a little over a week ago. “And I definitely don’t want yours.”

What a fucking lie.

Eddie takes Steve home, but not to Steve’s house.

No, Eddie takes Steve to the little house he shares with Wayne on the edge of town and coaxes Steve into his own bed, keeping the lights turned off. The house is filled with a rare quiet – Eddie always, always has music playing – and it’s both relaxing and discomfiting at the same time.

Steve, horrifyingly, still hasn’t quite managed to stop crying by the time Eddie lays him down on black sheets. Sheets that smell like Eddie, in a room that looks like Eddie. He’s surrounded by Eddie Munson, and it’s the most comfortable Steve has felt in a long time.

And Eddie is doing this without having received so much as a halfhearted “Sorry,” from Steve for his behavior the previous week.

“I’m gonna go get you some water, big boy,” Steve barely registers Eddie saying.

Steve is reaching out to grasp the sleeve of Eddie’s jacket before he can stop himself.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says pathetically. He gazes blearily at Eddie and feels even more tears welling in his eyes. Christ, he’s going to cry himself to death by dehydration, at this rate. “About the shit I said last week. I didn’t mean it.” Steve closes his eyes, feels the tears cascade down his cheeks. “Just got scared,” he confesses in a whisper.

Scared of what, exactly, Steve doesn’t know. Being vulnerable? Losing his place as the protector of their little apocalypse club? Allowing himself to depend on someone else to take care of him? Admitting that a metalhead nerd he used to call freak was making him want to tear down all of his walls and let someone in for the first time since Nancy Wheeler called their love bullshit in a stranger’s bathroom?

It’s a little bit of all of it, he thinks.

“I know you didn’t mean it, Steve,” Eddie sighs. God, he sounds exhausted. It makes Steve’s chest begin to ache, matching the pounding in his head. “Let’s just… we’ll talk about it later, yeah?”

Notably, Eddie refrains from saying anything to indicate that things are okay between them, and Steve grows even more nauseous at the thought. He can’t lose Eddie. He just can’t.

Still, he doesn’t argue with Eddie’s suggestion that they deal with all of that later. He simply nods and croaks out a muffled, “Okay,” then watches as Eddie disappears down the hall to get some water. A glance at the clock tells him its nearly eleven. He wonders how long he’s been having a migraine attack, at this point. In his panic, he’d forgotten to note the time it started, so he has no clue how much longer he might have left.

Eddie returns with the promised glass of water, some painkillers, a joint, and a bucket.

Steve takes the first two immediately while Eddie lights the joint, holding it between his own lips, and sets the bucket on the ground next to the bed.

“In case you hurl,” Eddie says with a shrug. Then, he takes a deep hit on the joint and offers it to Steve, who blinks at it in confusion. “You said it helped a little, right?” Eddie prompts, waggling the joint in front of Steve’s nose.

“Oh, um, yeah…” Steve murmurs. Gingerly, he pushes himself into a seated position and accepts the contraband. “I’ll pay for this one,” he says before taking a hit himself. He can hardly accept free weed from Eddie anymore, after everything. They’re not even speaking to each other, outside of apparently dire circumstances, and Eddie is essentially handing his income over to Steve whenever he provides a joint. He’s not going to do that for someone who’s barely even a friend, these days.

Eddie doesn’t say anything in response to Steve’s statement aside from a soft hum of acknowledgement, and Steve breathes out a cloud of smoke after holding it in his lungs for as long as he can. A gentle, floaty feeling is already settling over him like a blanket, and maybe it’s some sort of placebo effect (Steve thinks that’s what Nancy called it, at least), but the pounding in his head seems to lessen slightly.

It lessens enough to draw a sigh of relief from Steve’s lips, at least. Enough for exhaustion to start to overtake the pain. By the time the joint is gone, having been passed between the two boys for a few minutes, Steve can feel his eyes drooping and the way his body seems to be trying to sink right into the mattress and become one with it.

“You alright, Harrington?” Eddie asks quietly when Steve begins to sway side to side. At least… he thinks he’s swaying side to side. He might be imagining it. He’s feeling a little hazy.

Slowly, Steve nods. “Tired,” he replies.

Eddie just nods, a gesture Steve can see clearly now that his eyes have adjusted to the darkness in the room. “You should try to get some sleep,” he says, and Steve is lying down with his head on the pillows before Eddie even finishes the sentence. He thinks he hears Eddie huff out a soft laugh. It’s a nice laugh. Steve has missed hearing it.

But then, he feels the bed shift and opens his eyes to see Eddie rising, as though he’s about to leave the room again.

For the second time that night, Steve grabs him by the wrist before he can go, only this time, Steve’s got no idea what he wants to say.

Eddie freezes, staring at Steve with an unreadable expression. “Steve?”

“I… sorry,” Steve murmurs, averting his gaze and withdrawing his hand. “Are you, um, leaving, then?” He hardly even knows what he means. It’s not like Eddie is gonna leave the house – it’s Eddie’s house, for fuck’s sake – so Steve is really asking if Eddie is going to leave him alone in the room. And God, doesn’t that just feel a little bit pathetic?

Eddie seems to realize what Steve is asking at the same time Steve does, and his face sort of… softens a bit. He sighs… runs a hand over his face before responding. “Do you want me to stay, Steve?”

“I-“ Steve clamps his mouth shut before he says anything stupid, because there are a lot of things Steve wants… a lot of things Steve wants to say. I want you to stay because I feel like I’m losing my mind and you make me feel safe. I’m lonely without you and I wish I’d never said the things I said last week. I wish you’d call me Stevie again, like you did earlier at the car, because I missed that, too.

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs, sitting back down on the edge of the other side of the bed. Steve looks at him, happy it’s dark because he thinks his cheeks feel sort of red. “I don’t mind staying in here. Would it make you feel better if I did, or do you want me to let you rest?”

He’s giving Steve a choice – one Steve has to answer – and Steve doesn’t have the energy to attempt to lie. “Stay?” he asks in a small voice. He hates how pathetic and childish he sounds.

Eddie nods, like Steve’s answer was expected, and soon he’s settling in on the other side of the bed. “Would it bother you if I used my reading light to read?” Eddie asks. “It’s not very bright, but-”

“It’s okay,” Steve assures him, because it really is. Nancy had one of those little reading lights when they were dating, and honestly, they’re dim as hell. It’s definitely not bright enough to cause problems, especially when it won’t be angled towards him.

Eddie nods again and reaches for a book and the little light on the nightstand, and Steve rolls onto his side facing the other direction. He feels heavy, but his head still throbs mercilessly. Sure, it’s dulled a bit from the weed and the painkillers, but it still feels sort of like someone is punching his brain from the inside out.

With a heavy sigh, Steve shuts his eyes and lets one of his hands drift into his own hair, where his fingers drag across his scalp like one of those weird, metal scalp massagers he’s seen in the dollar store. It’s one of the only types of physical stimulation that really helps, so he continues doing it for who knows how long while he tries to will himself to sleep.

He’s failing miserably on the sleep front when Eddie’s quiet voice cuts through the silence.

“Does that help?” Eddie asks. “The thing you’re doing with your hair, or whatever?”

Steve’s hand stills for a moment. “Oh, um… yeah. Sort of,” he replies.

“Isn’t it hard to, like, fall asleep doing that, though?” Eddie wonders aloud.

It is, but Steve just shrugs and says nothing.

Behind him, Eddie clears his throat, and Steve hears the sheets rustle as Eddie obviously shifts slightly. “Do you want me to…?”

The end of the question is left unspoken, but Steve isn’t that stupid, even with a migraine. He can fill in the gaps. “Eddie, you really don’t have to-”

But Steve doesn’t even get to the end of his not-quite-a-no before he feels a cautious touch on his arm. Eddie’s hand wraps around Steve’s wrist and pulls Steve’s hand away, then replaces it with his own. Steve can hardly believe it when Eddie’s fingers quickly resume the gentle massaging motions against his scalp, once again driving back the throbbing in his head.

“Is this okay?” Eddie asks, voice almost sounding nervous.

And really, it’s more than okay. It’s amazing. It feels so much better than when Steve does it to himself. It makes Steve feel safe and cared for and it sort of makes him want to cry, with how soft the gesture is, but he’s done so much crying tonight already and he doesn’t want to do anymore. So, he blinks back tears and wills his voice not to crack around his single-syllable, “Yeah.”

Eddie’s fingers slow for a moment, then resume more confidently than before. He presses a little harder into Steve’s scalp, his blunt nails dragging across the crown of Steve’s head in the best way. It feels incredible.

Steve’s eyelids grow even heavier, and he can feel the pull of sleep dragging him down.

“Thank you,” he whispers, so quietly he’s not even sure Eddie will hear him.

But Eddie does. He always seems to hear Steve, even when nobody else can. “Just get some sleep, Stevie,” Eddie says softly. “I’ll be right here.”

So, with his heart in his throat and Eddie’s hand in his hair… Steve sleeps.

The next day, they follow through on the half-spoken agreement they made the night before, and they talk.

Steve brings it up first, unable to stomach even a little bit of cereal, despite the fact that his migraine is receding. He knows it’s due to the churning nervousness in his gut about not having apologized properly to Eddie. An apology in the throes of excruciating pain doesn’t really count. Not to Steve.

So, he puts his spoon down, allowing the Cheerios in his bowl to slowly become more and more saturated, and says the words that have been on the tip of his tongue for every waking moment since the night Eddie stormed out of his backyard.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. He can’t quite bring himself to look at Eddie, but for once, the constant rustling of Eddie’s perpetual movements has gone silent, so he’s pretty sure Eddie heard him. “I said some really fucked up shit the other night, and pretty much all of it was a lie, and… I’m just really fucking sorry, Eddie.”

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Steve looks up, then. Eddie is looking at him carefully, and Steve can’t read him at all. He’s pretty sure Eddie doesn’t look angry, at least, but not angry isn’t exactly what Steve is going for.

“I know you are,” Eddie says after a lengthy, tense pause. “I think you were sorry while the words were leaving your mouth. But it sure as fuck took you long enough to say it.”

Shame boils in Steve’s blood. “I know,” he admits, averting his eyes again. “I know. I wanted to talk to you, I just…” He pauses and grunts in frustration at his own inability to explain the way he’s feeling. Eddie just watches him patiently. “I’m just not used to people caring, you know?”

His gaze darts to Eddie just long enough to see the deep frown that etches hard lines into Eddie’s pretty face.

“I know that sounds, like, really bad, but it’s kinda true,” Steve continues. “Especially with stuff like this… being sick, and all of that. I’ve just always told myself I’m fine. Even when I was little.”

He thinks of his ten year-old self, desperately wishing the nurse would keep her hand on his forehead for just a little longer. Wishing his mother would touch him like she cared half as much. The way his father had yelled at him for getting the flu, as though Steve had woken up one morning and decided he wanted to be so sick he could hardly stand.

He thinks of all of those things, then thinks of what he would do if he found out that any of the kids in their little party were being treated like that by their parents. He’d lose his mind – he’s sure of it.

But Steve isn’t one of the party’s kids. He’s just Steve, and he’s supposed to be fine.

“I’ve been pretending to be fine for a decade, man,” Steve whispers, diligently looking at the table now that his sore eyes are starting to fill with tears. “And I thought I was pretty good at it, because everyone seemed to believe it, but then you were there. And you were asking all of these questions, and telling me to tell people, but I didn’t want to tell people, and I still don’t want to, because I’m not ready, and Robin will worry, and Nancy and Dustin will ask a bunch of questions I don’t know the answers to and I-”

Steve stops his tearful rambling when Eddie’s legs, clad in red, plaid pajama bottoms, come into view, and then all of Eddie is coming into view, because Eddie is kneeling beside Steve’s chair, reaching out to rest a careful hand on Steve’s arm. It’s only when Eddie touches him that Steve realizes he’s been shaking.

“Hey, Steve, it’s okay,” Eddie says, turning Steve to face him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell anyone else, and I’m sorry I pushed you. That wasn’t cool, man.”

“You were just trying to help,” Steve says tearfully. “’S not your fault. And then I was so mean and-”

To Steve’s surprise, Eddie chuckles, and it’s enough to shut Steve up again out of sheer confusion.

“Sweetheart, I was Eddie the Freak for the last five years,” Eddie says with a small smile. Steve tries not to think too hard about the way his stomach did a little flip hearing Eddie call him sweetheart, even jokingly. “I’ve dealt with way worse than you lashing out a little because you got spooked. No offense.”

Steve sniffles. “I mean…” he says awkwardly. “That’s fair.”

Eddie’s grin widens slightly, and Steve feels a jolt run up both of his arms as Eddie takes his hands in his own. “I’d say so,” Eddie teases, but a moment later, he’s all business. “I meant what I said, though. I’m not gonna make you tell anyone else, but…” His voice trails off, and Steve almost feels like crying again when Eddie gives his hands a little squeeze while the silence lingers between them. “Just… if you ever want to not be fine… if you need to just be a mess like the rest of us, for a little while, you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here, Stevie, ‘kay? You don’t have to do all of this shit alone.”

Steve’s voice is trapped in his throat, so all he can do is nod, and let Eddie Munson pull him into an embrace Steve clings to for as long as he can.

Neither of them let go for a long, long time.

Things change, after that, and for once, Steve is pretty sure they’ve changed for the better, because the biggest change has been the amount of time he’s spending with Eddie. Nowadays, they’re hardly seen without each other unless one of them is at work, and even then, Eddie can be found haunting the aisles of Family Video, and Steve is now a frequent visitor of the record store that hires Eddie only a couple of days after Eddie saved him from spending a whole night in his car. They’re together constantly, and when they’re not, Steve feels like he’s missing a whole piece of his chest. It’s a feeling he doesn’t quite understand, until the day he suddenly very much does.

They’re at Steve’s house watching Star Wars , sitting on opposite ends of the couch with their legs tangled together in the center, when Steve realizes.

Eddie is rambling about some sort of movie trivia, and Steve kicks him lightly to tell him to shut up so he can hear, but to his dismay, Eddie only sticks his tongue out and keeps talking. So, Steve throws a piece of popcorn at him.

Instead of dramatically ducking out of the way, however, Eddie opens his mouth and allows the popped projectile to land on his tongue before he looks at Steve, popcorn-laden tongue still out, and winks.

And Steve giggles like an idiot and wonders if Eddie would taste like popcorn, right now, if Steve were to kiss him.

The thought crosses his mind so fleetingly he almost misses it, but he doesn’t. Instead, his mind comes screeching to a halt, and Steve blinks as though seeing his friend with fresh eyes. He looks the same, only he doesn’t, because now Steve is noticing things he’s never noticed before, like the way Eddie’s curls look softer than the goddamn blanket they’re sharing. It shocks him for a moment, and Steve braces for the panic to set in…

Only it never does, because the more Steve thinks about it, the more it makes sense. He’s been in Eddie’s orbit for long enough, now, to recognize that a collision was probably imminent all along – the groundwork of it laid out in soft smiles and careful touches and more inside jokes than they could count. Steve has only ever really behaved that way around the people he’s had crushes on, so… yeah. Of course he has a massive crush on Eddie. Eddie is amazing and he cares so damn much, and he’s so pretty. How could Steve not like him?

He says as much to Robin the next day at work, and she promptly hits him with her trademark smack-hug (in which she smacks him for “being an absolute dingus”, then hugs him because he’s her dingus).

“Did you know you liked guys before this?” she asks when she finally lets go, jaw dropping in disbelief when Steve shakes his head and shrugs. “So you just… what, got through your whole sexuality crisis in a single night, and now you’re fine?”

Steve snorts, then laughs even harder when Robin smacks him (sans hug, this time) again. “Robbie!” he protests, giving her a playful shove. “I’ve fought demogorgons, dude. I have literally crossed dimensions. Realizing I’m a little bit in love with Eddie is so not on my crazy shit radar. If anything it just makes sense.”

Robin’s eyes go wide, and Steve blinks as he realizes what he’s just said. Okay, so maybe he was in a little bit deeper than he thought.

“A little bit in love?” she asks. “You serious about that?”

Steve pauses before he answers. Is he serious about it? He waits for the most guarded parts of him to start screaming in protest at the mere thought of being in love with someone again, just as they’ve been doing for the past two years, since “bullshit” in a stranger’s bathroom. The screaming doesn’t come, though. Instead, a sort of acceptance settles over him like a blanket.

Yeah. Maybe he is a little bit in love with Eddie Munson.

“I think so,” he tells Robin.

She shakes her head at him, but it’s a fond and proud gesture that makes him feel warm from the inside out. “God, Steve, and you’re just, like, totally fine with that?”

Steve smiles. “Yeah, actually. I think I really am.”

And for once, he actually means it.

He’s fine.

Steve doesn’t see Eddie until the following evening, when he pulls up to the Munson house after dinner for a night of smoking and watching movies. It’s practically become a standing appointment, by now (except on Tuesdays, like the night before, when Wayne is off, and Eddie always has dinner with him), and it’s Steve’s favorite thing in the world. Here, he gets to see Eddie beneath all of the fanfare and dungeon mastering. He gets to see Eddie soft and relaxed, wearing pajama pants, hair pulled up into a messy bun.

Steve has always thought Eddie looks good, like this. But for the first time, tonight, he realizes that a more accurate description would be beautiful.

Still, no matter how adorable Eddie looks, Steve can sense that the energy in the house is off the moment Eddie opens the door. Eddie’s smile, usually soft and unguarded with Steve, is pained and a little forced, and Steve can only take so much posturing from Eddie before he caves and asks what’s wrong.

“Eddie,” Steve says carefully when Eddie gets unreasonably angry at a plastic cup for tumbling out of the kitchen cupboard he just opened. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie tenses for a moment, pausing the motions of his quest to fill a couple of cups with water. Then, he resumes bustling about, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “What’s wrong is the fact that my kitchen appears to be out to murder me,” he attempts to joke, glaring half-heartedly at the offending cup. The joke falls flat, though, and they both know it.

Steve takes a few steps forward and picks up the dumb little cup, stowing it away on the highest shelf he can find. “There. Banished,” he says, pleased when Eddie seems to smile a bit. “Now will you tell me what’s going on?”

Eddie’s smile, however small, vanishes in an instant, but it takes less internal debate than Steve anticipated for Eddie to spill the beans. “It’s nothing important, man,” Eddie sighs, anxiously twisting his hair. “Just… some people said some shit to me while I was at the stupid store, earlier. It wasn’t even that bad, you know? Like, at least Carver’s minions aren’t trying to beat the shit out of me anymore, right? But they said something about Chrissy, and I…”

Eddie’s voice trails off, and he looks small now, fragile. The way Steve feels when he gets migraines – like he just wants someone to care.

And, God, does Steve care.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, voice gentle. “You don’t deserve that.”

Eddie bites his lip, won’t meet Steve’s eyes, and Steve knows why. He knows that no matter what any of them do or say, Eddie will always blame himself, at least a little bit, for what happened to Chrissy, no matter how unreasonable it is.

When Eddie starts worrying his lip so hard that Steve is worried he’ll draw blood, Steve can’t take it anymore. He reaches out, slowly, giving Eddie time to pull away, then lets his palm rest against Eddie’s cheek when Eddie stays put. Gently, carefully, Steve uses his thumb to drag Eddie’s lip out from between his teeth.

Steve feels a bit like he’s burning up, but he tamps the feeling down. Eddie is upset and hurting, and now is not the time for Steve to be acting on his newfound feelings.

“You don’t deserve any of it,” he repeats, thumb tucking under Eddie’s chin so he can better meet the metalhead’s eyes. “You know that, right?”

For a moment, neither of them move, but then Eddie shrugs and his eyes begin to fill with tears, and Steve does the only thing that makes sense. He pulls Eddie into his arms and holds him, lets him cry into the soft fabric of Steve’s sweatshirt and tries to chase away Eddie’s guilt by sheer force of will and love alone.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs into Eddie’s ear. Eddie’s face is buried in the juncture of Steve’s neck. He can feel little puffs of air ghosting across his skin, warm as the tears that are falling from Eddie’s eyes. It’s breaking his heart.

Steve shuts his eyes… gives in to the urge to comfort and protect and love and kisses the top of Eddie’s head with gentle lips. “You’re gonna be okay.”

It’s several minutes before Eddie’s sobs have turned to gasps, then to whimpers, and finally to soft sniffles, muffled on account of his face still being tucked into Steve’s neck. They remain like that for a little while longer, until Eddie seems to panic about having gotten snot all over Steve’s shitty old t-shirt and springs away.

“Shit, I… I’m sorry, man, I-”

Steve interrupts him before he even gets the word sorry out. “No. Nope, none of that, Eds, come on.”

“I just…” Eddie says hesitantly. He’s fidgeting with his hands like he can’t stand still. “I really didn’t mean to freak out like that, you know?”

Steve studies Eddie for a long time, then. He watches the nervous darting of Eddie’s eyes about the room, seemingly determined to land on anything that isn’t Steve. He manages to glimpse the guilt in Eddie’s expression, the defensive way he’s standing – arms crossed over his chest, hands tucked into his underarms. He wonders if he’s ever looked like this to Eddie – like a child anticipating a scolding. Maybe the morning after Eddie rescued him from being trapped with a migraine in his car.

Or maybe the night he yelled at Eddie just for caring.

He pushes the memory out of his mind.

“Eddie,” he says softly. Eddie doesn’t even acknowledge him, aside from an instinctual twitch of his head towards Steve’s voice. Steve takes a breath in and steps closer, resting his hands on Eddie’s shoulders. “Eds, look at me.”

There’s a long sigh – a moment in which Eddie simply closes his eyes and breathes, like he’s steeling himself for something – and then Eddie does what Steve asked, and their eyes lock.

“You’re a part of this group now, you know,” Steve says adamantly, and he really means it. Even Hopper doesn’t mind Eddie, these days. “And we’re all here for you, whatever you need, whenever you need it. You’re one of ours, Eddie.”

He pauses, and thinks about how for the longest time, he’d wondered if he only mattered to the kids and Nancy and Jonathan and Joyce and Hopper as a part of the group, and not as Steve.

“And even if you weren’t part of the group,” Steve continues. “Even if you weren’t, I would still be here for you, because I care about you, and you’re-” You’re mine, he desperately wishes he could say. “-you’re my friend, and I want you to be happy and to know someone cares.” Another pause. “You take care of me,” Steve murmurs. “I take care of you.”

Eddie looks up at him, slightly shorter than Steve when they’re both in their socks. Steve’s hands are still on his shoulders, and Steve watches as Eddie reaches up to rest his own hands over Steve’s. When Eddie’s fingers wrap around Steve’s own, clasping their hands together until they’re just standing there, holding hands between them, Steve doesn’t protest.

Instead, he observes Eddie’s expression carefully as it slowly morphs into disbelief.

“Steve Harrington…” Eddie murmurs, voice almost reverent. He chuckles, shakes his head, then looks back at Steve, still holding hands. “You wanna take care of me, big boy?” His words are teasing, but Steve can see the vulnerability painted plainly across Eddie’s face, can feel it in the tremble of Eddie’s hands.

He knows the answer before Eddie even finishes the question. “Yeah, I do,” he breathes.

They don’t watch a movie that night.

Instead, Steve makes them each a mug of hot chocolate (extra marshmallows in Eddie’s and extra whipped cream in Steve’s), and the two of them sit side by side in Eddie’s bed. They sip their cocoa and talk about everything and nothing. Eddie tries to explain Lord of the Rings to Steve, and Steve thinks it’s much more interesting when Eddie does it than when Dustin does. When he senses Eddie getting tired, he steers the conversation towards the weirdest customers he’s had in this week, and he talks until he feels a weight drop onto his shoulder.

Steve pauses, glancing down to see that Eddie has, indeed, drifted close enough to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder, and God, he looks so goddamn sweet like this. It’s not even remotely fair.

“Keep going,” Eddie murmurs. “’M listening.”

And Steve keeps talking until Eddie begins to snore softly.

“Hey,” Steve whispers after a few moments, turning to nudge the top of Eddie’s head with his chin. “Eddie, honey, let’s lay down. C’mon.” The pet name slips out unbidden, but Steve thinks it’s fine. He doesn’t really think Eddie even heard him. “C’mon, Eds, let’s get some sleep.”

Despite Eddie’s barely-awake grunts of displeasure when Steve moves, Steve manages to maneuver them both onto their backs, side by side, and before Steve has a moment to consider whether or not he wants to pull Eddie close again, Eddie unconsciously makes the decision for him.

In his sleep, Eddie rolls onto his side and fully latches onto Steve, one arm thrown across Steve’s chest, a leg lying atop Steve’s legs, and face once again hidden in Steve’s neck. Steve is suddenly glad that they were both already in their pajamas, because sleeping in jeans like this would’ve sucked.

It’s not the first time they’ve ended up in each other’s arms, one holding the other protectively against all of the horrors they’ve seen. The first time was the night of Steve’s horrible migraine, and it’s happened a couple of times since, but it is the first time Steve has been really, properly awake for it, rather than half asleep.

Eddie’s slender body tucked against him ought to feel sharp and angular and bony, but it doesn’t. Instead, Eddie is warm and soft – a comforting, exhilarating presence that makes Steve’s heart feel remarkably full. Warm puffs of breath drift across Steve’s chin. Wild curls brush against his cheek, and for the second time that night, Steve gives into temptation and kisses the top of Eddie’s head, wrapping the metalhead in his arms and wishing he could frighten away the nightmares and bad memories and every intolerant asshole in Hawkins, Indiana.

He can’t frighten them away, though – can only promise to be there to hold the pieces of Eddie’s heart together each time the benevolent ghost of Chrissy Cunningham unwittingly shatters it, so that’s what he does. He promises himself, silent but adamant, to make sure Eddie knows he never has to fall apart alone.

He keeps his nose buried in Eddie’s hair and realizes that beneath the vague smell of cigarettes and sandalwood cologne is that of vanilla. Steve wonders if maybe it’s the smell of Eddie’s shampoo.

A quiet, content sigh leaves Eddie’s mouth, and Steve can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth when Eddie nuzzles even closer. Steve gives him a light squeeze.

“Stevie?” Eddie murmurs, barely awake. Steve even thinks he might be sleep talking.

“Yeah, Eds?” he breathes.

“Thank you.”

Steve smiles. Kisses the top of Eddie’s head for a third time. Gives him one last squeeze, and allows himself to follow Eddie into slumber.

Steve calls the days following his worst migraines “hangover days”.

For the most part, it means that the headache is gone, but it’s left behind a swirling mess of brain fog and exhaustion and dizziness. When he’d first started getting migraines, these days had been his least favorite, because he felt fine enough to feel guilty about not being productive, but shitty enough to need to take it easy.

Now, he doesn’t mind them so much, because Eddie is usually there to make it more bearable. He moves quietly through Steve’s house, careful not to slam any doors or drawers, and the two of them spend the hangover days doing not much at all. Most of the time, Steve just dozes on the couch with his head on Eddie’s lap and Eddie’s hand in his hair while Eddie reads whatever fantasy book he’s been obsessing over lately.

It’s one of those hangover days when Steve stirs awake, emerging from a blessedly dreamless sleep to the familiar feeling of Eddie’s fingers carefully massaging his scalp. Eddie smells like he always does – like sandalwood and weed and vanilla and safety . It makes Steve smile sleepily before he even opens his eyes.

When he finally does, he blinks up to find that Eddie is already looking at him, frizzy hair appearing strangely reminiscent of a halo with the way the evening sun shines on it through the windows. He’s beautiful, Steve thinks – not that the thought is anything new. He always thinks Eddie is beautiful.

“Hi,” Steve croaks, blinking to clear the sleep out of his eyes.

Eddie grins. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Stevie,” he teases. His hand still hasn’t stopped its movements through Steve’s hair. “How’re you feeling, big boy?”

“Better,” Steve replies, letting his eyes drift shut again. “Kinda tired, but I don’t feel sick anymore.”

“Think you could eat something?” is Eddie’s next question. “I can dazzle you with my culinary skills, make you a grilled cheese and some soup from a can.”

Steve laughs quietly. “I dunno, last time you attempted a grilled cheese in my kitchen, we almost had to call the fire department.”

“That is a gross overstatement, Steven, and you know it,” Eddie retorts. It just makes Steve smile wider. “And I’ve been practicing, in case you were wondering. I’m a grilled cheese master now.”

Steve cracks an eye open, just so he can raise an eyebrow. “Oh you have, have you?” he teases.

“Maybe,” Eddie smirks. “And I won’t forget to butter the bread this time. Promise.”

The thing is, Steve really doesn’t want to move. Eddie’s hand is in his hair and his lap is warm and he smells so good it makes Steve want to die. But Steve is also sort of starving, after not having eaten anything for nearly two full days, and much to his own chagrin, hunger wins out.

“Yeah, alright,” he mumbles. He groans as he sits up and Eddie’s hand falls away. Eddie just chuckles and stretches out all of his limbs, stiff from having Steve half on top of him all afternoon.

It’s not long before Steve finds himself sitting at the kitchen table, watching fondly as Eddie bustles about, opening cabinet after cabinet to find what he needs and pointedly refusing to allow Steve to help, insisting that “a delicate little thing like you needs to rest, sweetheart.”

(Steve throws a crumpled up napkin at him in response.)

Honestly, as much as Steve likes to whine about feeling useless, he loves when Eddie gets like this – doting and sweet, like he’s some sort of weird, metalhead nurse and Steve is his rebellious patient. It makes Steve feel warm, cared for – a feeling that is embarrassingly unfamiliar to Steve, but one he’s slowly growing accustomed to.

He wonders if this is the way his mom and dad were supposed to act when he got sick as a child.

It takes a moment for him to realize he’s voiced his wondering out loud, but eventually, the realization comes. Eddie is frowning at him, and it occurs to Steve that he’s never really said anything to Eddie about his own parents.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Eddie asks.

Steve is frozen for a moment as his mind does its best to rapidly sort through potential responses. He could lie – tell Eddie that he was just joking – but that’s just… not what he and Eddie do. They’re honest with each other, sometimes to a fault, so lying is out.

He could brush it off and pretend like it doesn’t matter, but he doesn’t think Eddie will let him off the hook with this one.

So, instead of lying or steering the conversation elsewhere, Steve sighs and says, “Do you, um… do you remember when I told you, after the thing with the walkie and the car and the headache, that I wasn’t really… used to people caring?”

Eddie blinks, his frown deepening, and nods.

“I was, like, really fucking serious when I said that,” Steve says, not meeting Eddie’s surely pitying gaze. “I remember this one time, I was ten or eleven, and I got the flu, and my parents wouldn’t let me stay home from school.” He swallows anxiously. “I was running this super high fever, and I could barely even stand, dude, but my dad just kept telling me I was fine, and my mom didn’t really care to argue with him, so… I don’t know, man, I never really let anyone know when I was sick, after that. It’s like… mind over matter, or whatever. If I told myself I was fine then maybe I could just be fine.”

Steve chances a glance at Eddie, who seems to be looking at him even more intently than usual (and, honestly, that’s really saying something). Somehow, the pity Steve expects isn’t there. Instead, Eddie looks… angry.

His voice when he speaks, however, is anything but. It’s casual and calm, and it throws Steve for a bit of a loop. “I remember that year. Pretty sure my whole class got sick at some point,” Eddie says, slowly returning to his task of buttering the bread (because he really did remember this time).

“That’s what the nurse said before she sent me home,” Steve says cautiously, still feeling like he’s missing some crucial insight into Eddie’s reaction to Steve’s little story.

“Wayne and me got it at the same time,” Eddie continues. “And I was a goddamn wimp about it, so Wayne let me pick out cartoons to watch on the TV and slept in my room with me so I wouldn’t be alone. All we ate for like, a whole week was that chicken soup from a can that they sell at Melvald’s.” He pauses, sets down the bread and the butter knife and looks at Steve. “I’d only been living with him for a month or two – barely even knew him yet – but he still took care of me.”

Eddie’s eyes still burn with anger, but there’s a sad sort of sympathy in them, too. Steve doesn’t quite know what to make of it, something Eddie seems to sense.

“Listen, Stevie, I’m really not a good authority on how parents are supposed to treat their kids,” Eddie says carefully.

Steve nods, because Eddie has told him a few things, here and there, about why he ended up in Wayne’s care. Most of those conversations left Steve with an ache in his chest.

“But I think Wayne is probably a pretty damn good example,” Eddie continues. “Parents are supposed to take care of their kids, not make shit worse, and you…” He pauses, gaze locking with Steve’s. “Your parents sound like assholes. You deserved better than what you got, Steve,” he says firmly. “And it’s okay to want to be taken care of, even now. It’s okay to want that.”

Steve doesn’t realize how close he is to tears until the first one slips from the corner of his eye, and he knows he’s not fast enough wiping it away to hide it from Eddie. Face flaming, he buries his head in his hands and rubs his eyes with the heels, as though it’ll force the tears back inside, stop them from spilling over.

He hears the rustle of fabric and soft footsteps as Eddie moves closer, but he doesn’t pull his hands away until he hears Eddie’s quiet, “Hey.”

Steve looks, feeling wrung out like an old dish towel past its prime, just in time to see Eddie crouching in front of where he sits. All he can do is watch as Eddie’s hands come up to frame his face, and then he closes his eyes and simply feels Eddie’s thumbs brushing the tears away – the gentle gesture almost making him cry harder.

“You take care of me, I take care of you,” Eddie murmurs, an echo of what Steve said to him a few weeks ago after the incident at the grocery store. It makes Steve’s heart feel too big for his own chest. “That’s what you told me, right?”

Steve nods, eyes still squeezed shut against the onslaught of kindness Eddie Munson is so prone to showering him with. It’s been months now, since the day at the quarry, when Eddie had first helped him with a headache, and Steve still isn’t accustomed to Eddie’s care.

“You gonna let me take care of you, Stevie?” Eddie asks, but his tone isn’t teasing. It’s dead serious.

Steve opens his eyes to meet Eddie’s. The metalhead is looking at him expectantly with a warm, open expression that makes Steve’s stomach do something funny. “Yeah, okay,” Steve breathes after a long moment. “Okay.”

And this time, Eddie doesn’t burn the grilled cheese.

The biggest mistake of Steve’s life goes something like this:

He’s standing in his kitchen, tidying up after a night of hosting D&D for Eddie and the kids. It’s late, and everyone except Eddie has cleared out.

Eddie stayed behind to “help clean up,” although he’s mostly just yapping excitedly about the campaign and everything he’s got planned for the next session, occasionally pausing to pick up an empty soda can and toss it into a trash bag.

Steve doesn’t mind one bit.

He grins as Eddie rambles, doing his best to understand as much as he can. His knowledge of D&D is admittedly limited, although it’s gotten marginally better since he started spending most of his time with Hawkins’ best Dungeon Master. He’s not quite at the point of asking to join a campaign, but he also probably wouldn’t say no if Eddie asked him to.

Then again, the list of things Eddie could ask him that would result in a no these days is alarmingly short, so maybe that’s not saying much. That’s just how Steve is when he’s in love, and he’s definitely a little bit in love with Eddie Munson.

It’s a shame he’s too afraid to do anything about it.

Eddie is still talking about D&D by the time they get the last of the dishes cleaned and dried – something about a cursed forest and an NPC guide he’ll be introducing in the next session to help the party navigate their way through.

“You’re giving them a guide?” Steve asks, somewhat surprised. Eddie’s campaigns, according to Dustin, are known for being difficult to crack, so this feels decidedly out of character.

Eddie shrugs, unperturbed. “Just this once. It’s the girls’ first time playing and I wanted some built-in teaching opportunities. Makes it easier for them, you know?”

“That’s weirdly nice of you, Munson,” Steve jokes, snickering when Eddie elbows him in the ribs in retaliation.

“Hey, the boys say I’m a hard DM, not a mean one,” Eddie defends. “Gimme a little credit here. I’m trying to recruit people, not scare them away. It’s, like, Cult 101.”

“Right,” Steve snorts. “Draw them in with snacks and forest guides and before you know it they’ll be helping you summon the devil.”

“You know it, baby!” Eddie says with a wink.

Steve tries not to die on the spot.

“But as I was saying,” Eddie continues, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. “Once they make it out of the caves they’ll be in the forest, and then they’ll meet Sir Steven, who takes a liking to this ragtag little group of-”

“Okay, hang on,” Steve interrupts, looking at Eddie with surprise. “Did you just say the guide’s name is Sir Steven?”

Eddie, to Steve’s absolute delight, blushes. “Um, maybe?” he replies hesitantly. Steve raises an eyebrow. “In my defense,” Eddie placates. “He has aggressively motherly tendencies and is very good with a bat- um, a club.”

Steve makes an indignant sound. “I do not have motherly tendencies, Munson, Jesus!”

“Sure you don’t,” Eddie says, pointedly looking at the leftover cookies Steve had baked for the kids earlier in the day. “You know, you should really be thanking me for blessing you with the absolute honor of being in this campaign. This is no laughing matter, Harrington,” he continues, despite the fact that he seems to be holding in his own laughter.

Steve laughs and rolls his eyes. “Oh, you’ve named a character after me. Touching,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

But then it hits him.

Eddie named a character after him.

Eddie, who sees D&D as something sacred – as his escape, his safe place –created a character in his campaign who was based on Steve. Apparently gave him a bat as a weapon, too. It’s so stupid, and it’s completely ridiculous, but Steve feels stunned.

Because Eddie has taken up more than his fair share of Steve’s thoughts over the last few months. Steve is thinking about him all the time. When they get new releases sent to them at Family Video, he sorts through them and mentally catalogues the ones he thinks Eddie might like the best. When he goes grocery shopping, he buys Honeycomb cereal, even though he hates it, because Eddie likes it, and sometimes Eddie stays over when they’ve been drinking.

And he knows it’s dumb, but the thought that Eddie might be thinking about him just as much – enough to have thought to make him a character in this stupid game with the stupid dice – makes him feel insane. Makes him feel special.

It makes him feel reckless.

Steve stares at Eddie, who’s still smiling and laughing like normal, oblivious to the absolute rollercoaster of emotions Steve is on.

“You… you named a character after me,” Steve says again, only this time, it’s soft. Reverent.

Eddie’s smile turns curious, and he cocks his head to the side, seemingly puzzled. “Sure did, Stevie,” he confirms.

Steve is vaguely aware of the fact that the logical part of his brain (which does, in fact, exist, thank you very much) has gone completely off the rails as he takes two steps forward, effectively crowding Eddie against the kitchen counter. Eddie’s grin falters, and his eyes go wide.

“Steve?”

“God,” Steve says, voice strained. “You’re killing me, Eds.”

And before Eddie can reply, before the confusion even registers on Eddie’s face, Steve kisses him.

He cups Eddie’s face between his hands, tilts his head up ever so slightly, and kisses him like Eddie is water and Steve has just spent a month wandering the desert. Like he might die if he goes another second without knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like pressed against his own.

For a moment, Eddie freezes in surprise, and Steve is about to pull away to apologize profusely when, like a switch has been flipped, Eddie moves.

And just like that, Eddie is everywhere. His hands are in Steve’s hair, his tongue sliding deliciously against Steve’s own. Their chests are pressed together and Steve doesn’t even think before grasping the backs of Eddie’s thighs and hauling him onto the counter. Eddie goes happily, groaning into the kiss as Steve licks into his mouth again, tugging Steve closer with two hands fisted in the fabric of his sweatshirt. Steve lets him, and it’s completely involuntary when they rut against each other, both half hard, and Steve lets out a breathy, “Fuck, Eddie…”

Eddie’s response is immediate, and it’s not at all one Steve would’ve hoped for.

The hands on his chest, which had pulled him closer only moments prior, are now pushing him away, and Steve goes stumbling backwards, head reeling. Eddie slides off of the counter, looking absolutely terrified.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to realize he’s gotten this all wrong. “Eddie-”

“Wait, no,” Eddie says, holding his hands out in front of himself defensively. Steve stays put. “I can’t… I can’t do this with you, Steve.”

And the thing is, Steve Harrington has been hurt plenty of times in his life. He’s taken more punches than he can count, been tortured by Russian soldiers, fought off monsters from other dimensions, been neglected by his parents, been called bullshit by the girl he’d thought was the love of his life. Steve knows pain. He knows it well.

Which is why it’s all the more devastating when it occurs to him that this might be the most devastating pain he’s ever felt – Eddie, looking scared and hurt, telling Steve he can’t do this.

“Oh…” Steve whispers as his heart cracks open in his chest, bleeding icy rejection into his veins. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he croaks. “I- I thought-”

“I think I should go,” Eddie interrupts.

Steve feels like he might be sick. “Wait, Eddie-”

“It’s fine, Harrington, I just… I need to leave, okay?”

Steve recoils at the sound of his last name coming from Eddie’s mouth, not teasing as it has been for months now, but flat and emotionless, the way Eddie would’ve said it before Vecna, before they became friends. He’s spiraling too much to argue when Eddie walks out of the kitchen, but he manages to shake himself out of his stupor enough to dash to the door when he hears it open.

“Eddie!” he calls, voice cracking on the second syllable.

Eddie turns to look at him, expression guarded.

“I- I’m sorry,” Steve whispers again, tears brimming in his eyes. He can’t think of anything else to say. He doesn’t know how to make this right.

For a moment, Eddie looks conflicted, and Steve hopes (desperately) that maybe he’ll stay.

But then, something in Eddie cracks, and he looks away. Steve thinks he hears a soft sniffle, although it might be his own. “I’ll see you, Steve,” Eddie says.

And then he’s gone.

Steve sees the migraine coming, this time.

It hits not even twenty-four hours after he messed everything up with Eddie, and it’s a bad one. The shimmery aura he gets blocks out more than half of his vision in minutes, and he calls into work to let Keith know he needs to take a sick day. Then, he hunkers down and braces for the pain to hit. He can manage this. He can face a migraine alone, again. He’s not going to call Eddie.

He’s fine.

But then, Steve finds himself hunched over the toilet, emptying his stomach of what little food he’d managed to make himself eat after Eddie went running the day before, and the vomiting brings tears to his eyes. Tears that just… don’t stop, even after the retching is long past.

He sits back against the wall, still on the bathroom floor, and he cries.

He cries for the pain in his head, for the fact that he’s got to deal with it all alone, again. He cries for the sour taste in his mouth that he knows will take ages to get rid of. He cries for Sir Steven in Eddie’s campaign, who is surely a better man than Steve – one who doesn’t throw himself at his best friends in a moment of weakness.

Mostly, though, Steve cries for Eddie, and for how badly he’s fucked things up between them. He misses Eddie like one would miss a limb. Steve feels unbalanced without him. His head hurts and he misses Eddie and he’s all alone and all at once, Steve realizes that he can’t do this anymore – can’t handle being alone right now, so he drags himself out of the bathroom and picks up the phone, heart hammering with dread as he dials.

Robin Buckley answers her parents’ phone in two rings, and she’s at the front door within a half hour, confused and concerned as she pulls a sobbing Steve into her arms.

Finally, curled up on his bed with her, like they used to after Starcourt when the nightmares got too bad to deal with alone, Steve tells her everything. About the head trauma, the concussions, his parents being assholes, the migraines. Eddie.

All of it.

And because she is his best friend in the entire world and his platonic soulmate, Robin listens – holds him when he cries, even cries with him a few times. She’s not mad at him for not telling her about the migraines, although she’s mad at herself for not noticing something was wrong, and she’s furious with his parents for being grade A assholes.

When it comes to Eddie, though, she just seems… confused.

“He really pushed you away?” she asks softly, running her fingers through his hair soothingly. It helps, and it feels nice, but it’s not Eddie.

Steve nods, sniffling softly. “I don’t know what happened,” he admits wearily. “He seemed… I dunno, like, into it, for a little bit. And then all of a sudden he was literally pushing me away and saying he couldn’t do this.” It hurts to talk about, because Steve still can’t stop picturing Eddie’s terrified expression, and it breaks his heart all over again every time.

“And he didn’t say why?” Robin asks.

Steve just shakes his head.

“But that doesn’t make any sense!”

Steve looks at Robin in surprise. She looks frustrated and… almost angry. Steve thinks it’s sort of weird, until he considers how he might feel if someone else broke her heart. He would be ready to fight them, whoever it was, so he can’t really blame Robin for being mad at Eddie, if that’s what she is.

Robin clocks his look of confusion and sighs, biting her lip and glancing away. “I just really thought he felt the same,” she says after a pause. “Like, I was positive he did. I mean, I’ve seen you guys with each other. Way too much, actually, like… it was getting kinda gross how much freaking pining was going on-”

“Robin,” Steve grumbles, glaring halfheartedly at her.

“Right, not the point. Sorry,” she corrects hastily. “All I’m saying is that the longing glances, or whatever you wanna call them, weren’t exactly one-sided, Steve.”

Steve sighs. He’s beginning to wish they could just be done talking about it. “No offense, Robs, but your track record with interpreting signals isn’t the best.”

“If you’re talking about Vickie-”

“Obviously, I’m talking about Vickie!”

“Who I’m currently dating-”

“Only because she asked you out because she was tired of flirting with you for months and you not doing anything about it!” Steve argues. He feels the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. “Her words, not mine.”

“God, you’re such a dingus, dingus,” she huffs, although she doesn’t argue with him. Probably because they both know he’s right about Vickie. Her smile fades quickly, though, and she looks at him seriously. “I still stand by what I said about Eddie, though. Maybe if you just talked to him…?”

Steve’s smile falls as well, and he shakes his head adamantly. “Not now,” he says. “He practically ran out of the house, Robin, and I don’t want to make it worse, so… I dunno. I guess I’ll just give him some space and hope we can still be friends, or whatever.”

She eyes him sadly, taking one of his hands in both of her own. “But that’s not what you want,” she murmurs.

“No,” Steve replies, throat tight. “But what I want doesn’t really matter if Eddie doesn’t want the same thing.”

Robin doesn’t push it any further. She just hugs him close until they fall asleep.

Three days later, the knock at the door comes as a surprise.

Steve has spent the last few days trying and failing to stop tormenting himself over what happened with Eddie, and honestly? It hasn’t been going well. He’s barely slept since that day, and he’s spent a frankly concerning amount of time crying – so much that he’s surprised he’s not literally dehydrated yet. It’s even worse than when Nancy cheated on him with Jonathan, because at least that breakup was something he saw coming, and they’d given their relationship a decent try before it ended.

With Eddie, Steve never got to try. He’s going to spend the rest of his life on what if scenarios, and he’s going to do it without one of his best friends, because his impulsiveness apparently destroyed his friendship with Eddie, too.

The whole things makes Steve feel like he’s walking through fog. He goes to work at Family Video and goes through the motions, but he doesn’t really feel like he’s fully there. Thankfully, if Keith has noticed he hasn’t said anything, but Steve knows Robin is getting worried. He knows she’s losing her mind, not being able to help.

So, it’s been three days of boring shifts and no sleep and nothing more substantial to eat than cereal, and Steve is exhausted, anxious, and downright devastated. He’s considering just grabbing his keys and driving to clear his head, for a while, but then he remembers the last time he did that – how Eddie had needed to come to his aid like Steve was some damsel in distress – and decides against it.

Then, he hears the knock on the door, and he listlessly trudges over to open it, expecting to see Robin’s worried face. She’s the only one who would be stopping by on a random Tuesday evening unannounced, anyways.

Only, when he opens the door, it’s not Robin.

It’s Eddie.

He looks pale and exhausted, and he’s in grey sweatpants and a black hoodie instead of his usual garb, but he’s there. He’s standing on Steve’s doorstep, hand raised like he was about to knock again, and he looks like he’s about to cry.

Actually, he looks like he’s already done his fair share of crying, but maybe that’s just Steve’s wishful thinking. Misery loves company, and all that…

“Eddie,” Steve mutters, blinking at him in disbelief.

“Hi,” Eddie replies. His hand drops to his side, then joins the other to cross over his chest protectively. It’s weird, seeing Eddie so nervous and fidgety like this. He hasn’t acted this way with Steve since the Upside Down.

Steve clears his throat and stares pointedly at Eddie’s sneakers instead of meeting his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Eddie shuffles back and forth on his feet a few times, twitchy and anxious-looking, before he answers. “I, um… I think we should talk.”

Jesus. Talk about foreboding.

“Eddie, you really don’t have to-”

“Please, Steve…”

Steve looks up at the sound of his name, and for the first time in days, their eyes meet. It feels strangely like looking in a mirror, with the way all of the pain Steve has been feeling seems to be reflected right back at him in Eddie’s eyes. He swallows around the lump in his throat, then wordlessly steps aside and lets Eddie into the house. The air between them is so thick Steve thinks he might suffocate, so unbearably different from how things were only a few days ago.

He takes a deep breath before shutting the door and turning to follow Eddie into the living room, where they both sit on opposite sides of the couch.

When Eddie doesn’t say anything for what feels like years, Steve tries his best to extend an olive branch.

“Eddie… Eds, I’m so-”

He’s cut off by Eddie vigorously shaking his head and hopping to his feet, and Steve can only watch as he begins to pace nervously.

“Eddie?” Steve asks in a whisper.

“I know you wanna apologize, man,” Eddie begins, his frantic energy seeping into the tremor in his voice. “But I, like, really don’t want you to do that, because it’s definitely me who should be apologizing-”

“You- I-” Steve sputters. “Are you kidding? Why would you apologize to me? I’m the one who fucking kissed you without asking, when you obviously didn’t want me to-”

“I did, though,” Eddie interrupts.

Steve thinks they should probably stop interrupting each other if they want this conversation to be even remotely productive.

“What?” he asks, because there’s no way Eddie wanted to kiss Steve – not when Eddie pushed him away and then practically fled the house.

“You said I didn’t want you to kiss me, but that’s wrong. I did want you to,” Eddie says, mouth moving a mile a minute, hands flailing while he continues to pace.

God, this is making Steve’s head hurt. “I don’t understand.”

Eddie grunts in frustration and tugs at the ends of his hair. He’s tugging awfully hard, and Steve wishes he could just stand up and take Eddie’s hands to stop him from causing himself pain, but he knows he can’t. Not anymore.

“I know,” Eddie says, voice unusually high in pitch. He laughs, somewhat maniacally. “I know, and I wanna explain, I just don’t know how!” Steve watches as Eddie suddenly stops his pacing, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. “The other day…” Eddie says, voice strangely calm, now. “You kissed me, and then I freaked out and ran away.”

Steve nods.

“And you think it’s because I didn’t want to kiss you, or because I didn’t like it, but it wasn’t,” Eddie says.

Steve hesitates, then nods again, still hopelessly confused.

“I, um…” Eddie falters. “I haven’t exactly done much dating, not that that’s much of a surprise. I mean, I’ve kissed a couple of guys, but that’s pretty much it. Most of them pretended they didn’t even know me the next day in classes, and it was fine, because none of them actually mattered. They were just experimenting and I was bored, so it was fine.”

Steve frowns, but he doesn’t interrupt again.

“So it wasn’t that I didn’t want you to kiss me, Steve – Jesus you have no idea how badly I wanted you to… It was just that… when you did, I realized that I really wanted to make it good, because it was you, and I haven’t felt like that before with anyone else,” Eddie continues. “You were the first person to kiss me who actually, like, mattered, and then all of a sudden I had this thought that maybe you just wanted to experiment, like the others, and I…” He swallows, and meets Steve’s gaze. “I couldn’t handle being your experiment, Steve. So I panicked, and I ran.”

Steve’s throat feels tight as he takes in what Eddie is saying, because even though it feels good – is a relief, even – to know that Eddie doesn’t hate him for the kiss, he can’t quite wrap his head around one particular thing.

“Eddie…” Steve mutters, his eyes beginning to burn. “You-“ He clears his throat. “You really thought I would do that to you?” He feels like he’s falling – frantically grasping for something to hold onto and coming up empty-handed every time. Even after years of growth and trying to be better, after months of showing Eddie the parts of himself he’s never shown anyone before… Eddie still thinks he’s the kind of guy who would use him and lose him.

Eddie looks like a deer caught in headlights, eyes going wide as Steve tries not to let the hurt show on his face.

“No, Stevie, wait. I…” Eddie says weakly. He swallows audibly and crosses his arms over his chest again. “I think it was less about what I thought about you, and more about how I feel about me.”

Steve just looks at him, exhausted and confused.

Eddie sighs and finally sits down on the couch again, closer to the middle, this time. Closer to Steve. “I’m not… I’ve never been a guy who gets to, like, have things. Good things, I mean.”

Steve watches as Eddie fiddles with his rings, finally beginning to understand what he’s trying to say.

“But then you were kissing me, and it was so good, because you’re so good, and I’d wanted it fucking forever, man, and I just…” Eddie sighs. “I panicked. There was that little part of me that thought – what if he’s just fucking with me? – and I was an idiot, and I listened to it. But then Robin came by and-”

Steve startles and can’t help interrupting. “You talked to Robin?”

To his surprise, Eddie huffs out a bitter little laugh. “Um, sort of? She did most of the talking. Well, yelling. And she smacked me a couple of times, which I probably really deserved-”

“She smacked you?” Steve squawks, eyes wide. He can’t decide whether he wants to laugh or cry. Maybe both.

“Not, like, violently!” Eddie clarifies. “Jesus, Harrington, we’re talking about Buckley. No, she just, like, swatted me a few times and yelled at me for breaking your heart, which I did not know I was even capable of doing, because usually in order to break someone’s heart they kinda have to… um…”

Eddie pauses, quickly averting his eyes, and for a long moment, the silence is deafening. They both know how that sentence ends, and Steve hesitates. He could show his hand, now – lay it all out on the table for Eddie to see and hope for the best – or he could keep his cards close to his chest, tucked inside the space his heart has carved out over the last few months for Eddie to fill.

Steve looks at Eddie – this weird, anxious, beautiful mess of a human being who he’s promised to take care of, and who takes care of him in turn – and makes his decision.

“They have to love you, Eddie,” he says softly.

Eddie’s eyes widen, and when his eyes snap up to look at Steve, they’re dancing with some strange combination of hesitancy and hope. “Yeah,” Eddie replies, voice matching Steve’s in volume. “That.”

There’s another long pause, and Steve sort of wishes he could melt into the couch cushions and disappear. His heart is threatening to beat its way out of his chest, and Eddie’s gaze is so intent that Steve doesn’t know what to do with himself. Mostly, he desperately needs Eddie to say something.

“So,” Eddie says softly, and for a moment Steve thinks Eddie is about to ignore what was, essentially, a love confession. “She, uh… she yelled at me and said I was being a fucking idiot and told me to get my, and I quote, ‘gay little ass’ over here and make it right, so… here I am. Making it right. Or trying to, at least…”

Steve blinks at him in confusion. He’s got absolutely no idea what any of this means.

“I, um…” Steve says. “What are you trying to say, exactly?” His own voice sounds small and fragile to his own ears. “I mean, I’m like, really happy you’re here, because I fucking missed you, but I’m super confused, man.”

Eddie’s face pinches into a frown, and he bites the inside of his cheek. It’s only mildly adorable. “Right, uh…” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck like he always does when he gets anxious. “I’m trying to say that I feel the same, I think? And that you could probably break my heart too?” He says it like he’s not sure – like he’s asking a question – and, yep. Steve is still utterly confused.

“What?” he asks dumbly.

Eddie groans and buries his face in his hands, shaking his head back and forth like doing so might dislodge some errant thought he doesn’t want there. Steve just watches, feeling anxious and exposed and hopelessly confused. His stomach hasn’t felt settled ever since the other night, and it’s only gotten worse since Eddie showed up at his door a few minutes ago.

“Shit, man,” Eddie hisses. He looks a bit like he wants to smack himself, and Steve can’t decide if he finds it funny or deeply concerning. Maybe a mix of both. “Okay. Wow. I am not good at this. Jesus. Okay, um…” His voice trails off. He takes a deep breath. Then he lowers his hands and fixes Steve with a paralyzingly soft, nervous look and tries again.

“I’m saying I like you, Steve,” Eddie says. His voice is so soft, Steve almost misses the fact that it’s shaking.

Almost.

“Like, a lot,” Eddie continues. “I like you so fucking much. And not like I like Robin, you know? I like you in a really annoying, super fucking embarrassing way that makes me want to kiss you and, like, cuddle with you, and buy you presents just for existing because you’re so infuriatingly perfect. God, I’ve got it so bad for you, man. I mean you could definitely break my heart, if you wanted to, because I…” He swallows. “I like you so much, Stevie,” he whispers, and to Steve, it sounds a lot like I love you. “It’s probably a little pathetic how much I fucking like you.”

Eddie’s voice cracks right at the end of his little speech, and Steve can see how nervous he is. His hands are shaking. His face is red. He can’t stop fidgeting – tugging on his hair and bouncing his legs and rubbing the back of his neck so hard it’s like he’s waiting for a goddamn genie to come out of it.

But Steve can’t quite think of anything to say, because when he’s imagined his next conversation with Eddie after their disastrous kiss in the kitchen, i’s always ended with a tentative agreement to try to stay friends. Fuck, sometimes it ended with a handshake. Not one of the scenarios in Steve’s imagination – except the few he’d written off as impossibly wishful thinking – involved a reciprocated confession of feelings.

Which leaves Steve in a bit of a pickle, frankly. Because there’s a lot he wants to say, and his mouth has apparently forgotten how to form words.

So, instead of saying something smooth – instead of tapping into the dormant King Steve parts of himself and turning on the charm – all he can manage is a weak, quiet, “Oh.”

Eddie just laughs – a manic, high-pitched thing that Steve can absolutely relate to right now. “Yeah, Stevie. Oh.”

Eddie’s smile is self-deprecating in a way that Steve both hates and adores, but he gets it. He knows how Eddie feels. He thinks he’s probably feeling the same way, and he wracks his brain for something to say, but he’s just not ready. He’s not ready to face this thing between them, which Steve thought to be one-sided only minutes ago. He still feels flayed open and raw from days of wallowing, so he does the only thing he can think of.

He deflects.

“I told Robin about the migraines,” he says softly, meeting Eddie’s gaze pleadingly, praying that Eddie can see how badly Steve needs to talk about something else for a moment.

Eddie looks at him, surprised, but he nods. He understands. God, of course he does. Eddie always understands.

“I had one the day after we… y’know,” Steve continues, breaking Eddie’s gaze to stare at his own hands. “And I knew I couldn’t call you, but I didn’t wanna be alone. So I called Robin and I told her everything.”

He looks back at Eddie, then, and what he sees makes him feel unbelievably guilty. Eddie looks heartbroken. He looks like Steve could’ve ripped his heart straight out of his chest with his bare hands and crushed it into dust, and it would’ve hurt less than hearing the words that just came out of Steve’s mouth.

“You could’ve called, you know,” Eddie whispers, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I would’ve answered.”

Steve doesn’t know how to explain that he was never worried that Eddie wouldn’t answer. He’s always known Eddie would answer – even back when they hadn’t spoken in a week because Steve had been a Grade A Asshole. He doesn’t know how to tell Eddie that he didn’t call because he couldn’t. Because he wouldn’t have been able to stand seeing Eddie and knowing how badly he’d fucked up.

Instead of trying to explain, Steve nods. “I know you would’ve,” he replies. “I never really doubted that. But…” He pauses. Shrugs. “I kinda really needed to tell Robin, anyways. She was, like, super mad at me for not telling her sooner. Probably would’ve smacked me if I wasn’t already crying.”

Eddie makes a soft noise of distress, and Steve swears he sees him start to reach out before deciding otherwise. The expression on Eddie’s face is miserable and kind and unbearably tender. It’s the sort of tenderness Steve realizes he’s been taking for granted over the last few weeks – the sort of tenderness that he’s missed so desperately since their kiss. Just thinking about it sort of makes Steve want to cry, again.

His eyes are growing more and more damp by the second, and he’s acutely aware of the way Eddie’s face crumples even more as Steve blinks and sends twin tears cascading down both cheeks.

He blinks again and the tears keep coming, and that seems to be the thing that obliterates what remains of Eddie’s resolve, because the metalhead finally scoots closer. Close enough for their thighs to be touching.

It only sort of helps, because that little bit of touch makes him feel instantly better, but the relief he feels only makes him cry harder.

Eddie sniffles, and Steve brings his palms to his own face and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, because he’s so sick of crying. It’s all he’s been doing for days.

The first sob slips free from Steve’s lungs unbidden, and he can feel Eddie shifting on the couch before he hears Eddie speak. “Stevie…” he murmurs, voice trembling.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Steve lowers his hands and meets Eddie’s teary gaze.

“Eds…” Steve croaks, because Eddie is crying now, too, and God, Steve can’t fucking stand seeing Eddie cry. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie chuckles wetly, and yeah – maybe it was a dumb question considering… everything. But Steve’s instinct, even now, is to worry about the people he loves most, and Eddie is definitely on that list. He’s at the very top of it.

“Okay, um, dumb question,” Steve says quickly, voice breaking on a half-sob, half-laugh.

Eddie doesn’t laugh, though. Instead, he frowns as he slowly reaches out – like he’s giving Steve time to jerk away if he wants to – and rests soft palms and guitar-calloused fingers on Steve’s cheeks, thumbs brushing away the still-falling tears.

Steve just closes his eyes. Lets himself lean into the touch.

“Not a dumb question, sweetheart,” Eddie says softly, and if he notices Steve’s sharp inhale of breath in response to the pet name, or if he feels the way Steve’s heart skips a beat, he doesn’t mention it. Steve loves him so goddamn much. “Just hate seeing you cry.”

Steve is pretty sure he honest-to-God whimpers while he blindly reaches out and feels a trail up Eddie’s chest to loop his arms around the back of Eddie’s neck. His heart is jackrabbiting against his ribs as he gently pulls Eddie closer, praying to any God that will have him that Eddie doesn’t pull away this time.

He doesn’t.

Eddie lets Steve pull him closer until their foreheads are resting together, and they remain like that a long, long time. It’s an indescribable relief to be able to once again breathe in Eddie’s comforting scent and get his fingers in Eddie’s hair. He’s pretty sure he could stay like this forever – breath ghosting across each other’s lips, hands gentle on each other’s skin.

“Stevie,” Eddie murmurs. “Honey. Please don’t cry.”

And honestly, Steve just wants to laugh, because it’s painfully clear that they’ve both done far too much crying over the other in the last few days – all because both of them are just a little bit stupid about each other.

“God,” Steve chokes out. “We’re idiots.”

Eddie huffs out a shaky laugh. “I think it was mostly me this time, sweetheart,” he replies, voice gravelly with emotion.

Steve just laughs softly and pulls back so he can properly meet Eddie’s eyes. He keeps his arms around Eddie’s neck, and Eddie’s hands fall to his waist. “I can’t believe you didn’t realize how completely fucking gone I am for you, Munson,” he teases.

Eddie groans and drops his forehead to rest against Steve’s shoulder. “In my defense, I thought you were straight, and I’m, like, objectively not the kind of person people usually fall for.”

“Still, though, it’s not like I was subtle-”

“I thought you were just… I dunno, like, super close with your friends!”

“Eddie,” Steve laughs, a grin stretching over his face as the tears slowly begin to dry up. “I told you things I’ve never told anyone before. We fell asleep holding each other more than once. Jesus Christ, dude, I let you touch my hair.”

Eddie snorts at that and finally stops hiding his face in Steve’s shoulder. His eyes are still watery, but he’s smiling now, too. “An honor,” he says sarcastically.

“Uh, yeah, Munson. It absolutely is,” Steve jokes. He pauses for a moment to drink in the sight of Eddie smiling at him again. He’s only gone without it for a few days, but it feels like it’s been a lifetime.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, big boy?” Eddie asks, cocking his head to the side. He pokes Steve once in the center of his chest, then leaves his hand to rest flat just over Steve’s heart. Steve knows he can probably feel the way it’s trying to beat its way out of his chest.

Steve smiles and – God help him for being such a sappy piece of shit – can’t resist tucking a loose strand of hair behind Eddie’s ear. “Just… missed you,” he says simply.

Eddie’s eyes go impossibly soft. “I’m sorry I ran out the other day,” he murmurs.

But Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I get it. I mean I kinda did throw myself at you, so I get why it would’ve freaked you out.”

“Yeah…” Eddie says quietly. “Still, though…”

Steve studies him for a moment, thinking back to everything that happened that night in the moments before the kiss. “I don’t know if this’ll be, like, reassuring, or anything…” he says sheepishly. “But it wasn’t really a spur of the moment thing. I’d been wanting to kiss you for weeks. Just hadn’t found the right time to do it. I mean, I wasn’t exactly planning on doing it that night, but then you named a D&D character after me, and that was, like, sort of the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, so I guess I just kinda… snapped?”

He trails off hesitantly towards the end, because Eddie’s face has gone from looking fond and a little bit sad to full-blown shocked. Stunned. Completely taken aback, like Steve just dropped an absolute bombshell on him, although Steve doesn’t feel like anything he just said was all that unexpected.

“Uh, Eds?” he asks warily, beginning to pull away, drawing his hands back towards his own lap.

Eddie catches them in his own before he can get too far, though. “Steve Harrington,” he breathes, half of a smirk beginning to take shape on his lips. “Are you telling me that you kissed me because of something I did in D&D?”

Steve blinks at him. “Um, yes? Sort of?”

A high-pitched, frantic laugh bursts from Eddie’s chest, and Steve realizes it’s hardly a laugh at all. It’s a fucking giggle, and it’s unreasonably adorable. “Oh my God, you fucking nerd!” Eddie says happily.

“Hey!” Steve says, his own grin mirroring Eddie’s, now. “Didn’t I just say that I wanted to kiss you way before that? It wasn’t just the D&D thing!”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie giggles.

Steve is going to die of happiness.

Then Eddie is scooting closer, looking at Steve intently. He’s smiling, bright and genuine, but there’s something urgent in his eyes that Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. It only amplifies when Eddie’s gaze dips down to Steve’s lips and remains locked there, and suddenly Steve feels like it’s very hard to breathe.

“You still think about kissin’ me, Stevie?” Eddie whispers.

All of the breath whooshes out of Steve’s lungs, and he swallows thickly, his own gaze flitting down to Eddie’s lips and then back up to big, brown doe-eyes he wants to drown in. “Yeah,” he breathes. “All the fucking time.”

Eddie nods slowly, like he needs a moment to process Steve’s words, then bites his lip. “You, um…” Eddie murmurs, cheeks slowly taking on a bit of crimson color. “You should maybe do that,” he says. “Y’know, like, if you want.”

Steve doesn’t need to be told twice.

He squeezes their joined hands once, waits for Eddie’s almost imperceptible nod in response to his own questioning gaze, and leans forward to capture Eddie’s lips in the gentlest kiss Steve has ever given anyone in his life.

It’s short and sweet and so soft – a chaste, careful brush of lips so entirely different from the one they shared in the kitchen that Steve almost can’t believe he’s kissing the same person. It hardly lasts for more than a second, but it still leaves him feeling tingly all over when they part with a soft smacking sound.

He opens his eyes just before Eddie does, and they watch each other for a moment, noses still brushing between them.

“Okay?” Steve asks, because he needs to be sure. He’s not going to mess this up again.

To his relief, Eddie smiles. “Okay,” he murmurs, and then he’s leaning in again to sweep Steve away into another kiss.

This time, Steve allows himself to relax into it. He releases Eddie’s hands in favor of tangling his fingers in Eddie’s hair, sinking into the curls he’s so missed for the last few days. He refrains from pushing for anything more, though. He’d be content to stay here and exchange these sweet, chaste kisses for the rest of the night – fuck, for the rest of his life, even – if that’s what Eddie wants.

That’s not what Eddie wants, though, because Steve has barely had a chance to suck in a breath of air before Eddie is on him again, taking advantage of Steve’s parted lips and letting their tongues slide over each other in the most delicious way. Eddie tastes faintly of cigarettes and peppermint gum and something Steve knows is just Eddie himself, and Steve is dizzy with it. He lets himself be pressed back into the couch cushions as Eddie clambers, ungraceful but eager, into his lap, lips still moving together in a perfect give and take. Waves lapping at a sandy shore.

They pause, when Eddie finally seats himself atop Steve’s thighs, and Steve’s hands go to grip Eddie’s waist tightly, terrified that this is the moment when Eddie will decide to run again. Steve doesn’t want to let go, this time. He doesn’t want to let go ever.

Eddie isn’t preparing to bolt, though – not today. Instead, he looks down at Steve with a blatant adoration Steve’s never gotten from anyone. His gaze is open, and his smile is soft, and Steve loves him so fucking much.

“Robin was right,” Steve says, voice utterly wrecked. “You could absolutely break my heart, Eddie, because I love you,” Steve murmurs gently, giving a stunned Eddie a soft kiss on the lips. “I know it’s fast. I know that, and I don’t expect you to say it back, but I need you to know, okay? I love you.”

Eddie’s eyes are wide with astonishment, but Steve knows it’s the good kind, because there’s no trace of distrust or hesitancy. There’s only awe. Wonderment.

“Steve…” Eddie murmurs, a reverent smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

Steve wants to kiss him again, so he does. It’s careful, lingering, and Steve exhales when they part, lets his eyes drift shut as he rests his forehead against Eddie’s.

“I love you,” Steve says again, because now that he’s said it once, he can’t seem to stop. Whatever fears he’d held onto about falling in love again are fading fast. It’s possible, of course, that Eddie will break his heart somewhere down the line, but Steve has a feeling – deep in his bones – that Eddie won’t. Which is probably why he says what he says, next. “Break my heart, Eddie Munson,” he murmurs, a smile on his lips.

When Steve opens his eyes, Eddie is smiling too, and he’s shaking his head. “Never, Steve Harrington,” Eddie replies. “Because I love you, too.”

And when Steve kisses him deeply, clumsy on account of the smiles neither of them seem to be able to hold back, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that Eddie means it. Eddie kisses him back, whispers Steve’s name like a prayer, touches him with gentle hands. Eddie takes care of him, just as Steve takes care of Eddie, because it’s what they do.

You take care of me, I take care of you.

Steve smiles.

They’re going to be fine.

More than fine.