Chapter Text
Eddie waits in the men’s room after the final bell of the day. He perches on the wobbly toilet seat, feet pulled up out of sight like it’s seventh grade and he’s hiding from Richard Sterns again. He’s trying to wait long enough to avoid the people that give him the most trouble: the basketball players and the cheerleaders and the fucking Bible thumpers.
But he can’t wait too long. Can’t risk being caught alone, away from any witnesses.
A week ago, he was late leaving – had to stay after class to explain to Principal Higgins that no, he was not the one defacing his own locker, thanks, and could they maybe do something about that? He’d walked out to the deserted parking lot and found his van trashed: tires slashed, fuel line cut, probably sugar in the gas tank too, if he had to guess. And of course, there was a charming new paint job; red paint splashed across the sides, along with a few clumsy pentagrams. His tormentors were not original.
With no other options, he’d started on the long walk home.
Fifteen minutes down the road, trying to distract himself by thinking about D&D, he’d felt a sudden hard thump between his shoulder blades, and then the shock of cold liquid soaking through his shirt. It happened so fast… he remembers seeing the cup rolling away across the sidewalk, thinking someone must have thrown a soda out the window. Then the smell of gasoline hit him – stinging in his nose and throat.
Eddie realized there was a car stopped along the sidewalk at the same time he heard a young male voice shouting, “Light him up! Light him up!”
His instincts kicked in then, that hair trigger flight response that had become so sharply honed in the past month, and he’d bounded away from the road. The car pealed out, tires squealing, and he’d turned in time to see a plain brown station wagon disappearing down the street.
It was Calpurnia’s terrified hissing that drew his attention down to the sidewalk, to the black Zippo lighter laying in the spot where he’d been standing, lid open and flame still guttering.
His memories blur after that. He made it back to Forest Hills, stripped out of his gasoline-soaked clothes and climbed into the shower, where he washed his hair for over an hour, trying to get the smell out – but he doesn’t clearly remember any of it. Not until Wayne came home and found him wrapped in a towel, shivering on the floor of the bathroom.
His uncle was furious when Eddie finally managed to explain what happened. He’d insisted they call Hopper, newly reinstated as Police Chief after his miraculous return to Hawkins. They made an official report, even though it was basically useless: Eddie hadn’t seen any faces, no license plate number or identifiable features on the car. There was nothing anyone could do.
When the kids found out, Eddie tried to downplay it - referring to the incident as a prank - but everyone else took it pretty seriously.
Especially Steve.
He was already arranging a pickup schedule the next day, working to ensure Eddie would have a ride to and from school.
It’s worked out so far, until today, when Nancy cornered him in the hall after lunch to apologize, her little white-faced capuchin daemon wringing his tail.
“I’m so sorry Eddie, something came up and my mom needs the station wagon. I called Steve – he’s going to try and work something out.”
“No worries, Wheeler. I’m a big boy – I can walk home on my own.”
He’d acted tough, unconcerned in front of Nancy, but now he’s hiding in the bathroom, waiting twenty minutes and hoping the coast will be clear when he sneaks out.
“Nancy said Steve was going to work something out,” Calpurnia reminds him, as he scans the hallway nervously.
“Steve doesn’t have anyone to take his shift today, remember? Robin had to go to the dentist.”
He’s only half wrong. Steve isn’t waiting for them in the parking lot – but his daemon is. Eleanor.
The first time he saw her – up close, not just in passing through the halls of Hawkins High – was in Rick’s boathouse. A hundred and thirty pounds of sandy fur, muscle, and fangs – golden eyes burning like headlamps in the gloom – the wolf had sniffed him out easily. He’d nearly shit himself when he shoved Steve against the wall and she’d snarled at him.
“Goddamnit Harrington,” he mutters. He can’t deny that it’ll feel a lot safer to walk home with Eleanor guarding his footsteps, but she’s not exactly inconspicuous.
Eddie stalks across the parking lot and takes a right, the wolf loping over to meet him, easily keeping pace. Will casual bystanders assume she’s just a dog? He fucking hopes so.
Most people can’t get more than a few yards away from their daemons before they’re doubled over in pain. Which makes sense, because a daemon is the physical manifestation of a person’s soul – their ‘inner essence’, so to speak. They’re not supposed to be far apart. The specific range is a little different for everyone – one person might be able to go ten yards, while another can only manage six – but it’s usually nothing drastic.
Steve and Eleanor are capable of being miles apart from one another. He saw it happen for the first time when Steve marched off with Nancy and Robin, on their mission to kill Vecna, and Eleanor remained behind with the distraction team.
Dustin called it a special talent, when Eddie asked about it. Just something they can do. Like swimming, or basketball, or wrangling unruly teenagers. It was a shitty explanation, but they were in the middle of reinforcing the trailer, preparing to distract a horde of demonic bats while Eleanor played guard dog, so he’d let it go.
And then, when the wolf was tearing demobats off his back, crunching through leathery wings and whipping tails like paper, he thought: Holy shit. I might have died if she wasn't here.
Three weeks later, and he still has no idea how they do it.
He waits until they reach the gravel drive into Forest Hills before he makes any attempt to speak to her. At this time of day, the only people hanging around the trailer park are hard of hearing retirees, and Mr. Jameson - who usually starts on the hard liquor at lunchtime and should be three sheets to the wind by now.
“You guys should try to be less obvious about the whole…” he waves his hand in a circle over the wolf’s head, “…separating thing. If people catch you, they’ll be trying to string you up right next to me.”
“Sorry,” she replies, in her low, husky voice. “Keith said if Steve left the store empty again, he would fire him. We didn’t want you walking home alone.”
Eddie hates this. Hates being a burden to these people. They already saved his life, and got his name cleared of murder charges; hell, their super-powered friend even sealed up the hole in the roof of his trailer. And he just keeps causing trouble.
*****************
Eleanor wants to wait for Steve outside, so Eddie waits with her, lounging on the ratty old couch with his acoustic guitar.
Calpurnia, who spent the day hiding under his shirt, has stretched out across the steps in a band of sunlight. He used to wear her around his wrist like a bracelet, flashy red and yellow stripes on show, but the first week back at school after his name was cleared, Andy Johnson tried to “accidentally” smack her with a book, so now she drapes around his neck or waist, always tucked safely under his shirt, no matter how stifling it may be.
Dusk falls slowly, the sun lingering just a little longer each day as Spring marches toward Summer. The edges of the trailer park blur, going soft in the low light, and the place comes to life as people get home from work. The smoky smell of burgers on a grill somewhere has his mouth watering, thinking about dinner, when Eleanor’s head pops up.
Moments later, Eddie spots the headlights bouncing over the cracked drive. Steve pulls in next to Eddie's van, sitting propped on cinder blocks in the grass. The shiny BMW looks almost comically out of place; as incongruous as Steve in his blue and white polo shirt and acid wash jeans.
He approaches the porch at an easy pace, hoisting himself up to sit next to Eleanor, leaning so that his back just presses into her side. Very casual. “How’d it go today?”
The concern is both touching and annoying. They all act like he’s fragile or something. Eddie’s never been falsely accused of murder or targeted by a lynch mob before, sure, but he’s been a pariah for most of his life – because people didn’t like his deadbeat dad, or his daemon, or the fact that he lived in a trailer park. All kinds of reasons. He just needs to ride this out, and he needs Steve Harrington to stop looking at him like he’s going to break.
“Oh, it was peachy. Someone stuck a crucifix in my face, and I didn’t even burst into flames. Cause for celebration right there.”
Steve doesn’t say anything. He just turns and looks up at Eddie with a pinched little furrow between his eyebrows, big puppy dog eyes wide and worried. Those things should be illegal.
Eddie blows air up into his bangs, rolling his eyes. “Sorry. It was fine, okay? Nothing happened.” Steve still doesn’t look entirely mollified, so he looks for a subject change. “What about you James Dean? What’s up with the popped collar?”
Success – Steve immediately slouches and looks away. He tugs at the collar of his polo shirt, folding it back down self-consciously. “Someone asked about the scar around my neck today,” he admits.
The scar doesn’t look so bad – just a pink line ringing Steve’s throat. Most of the time it’s not even that visible. “So what?” Eddie says. “Scars are sexy. Proof that you survived something.”
Steve’s whole face goes red, all the way down his neck, which makes the scar stand out a little darker. Eddie follows it to the unbuttoned collar of Steve’s polo, and his brain skips like a scratched record.
He has to forcefully turn his head away to stop looking at it, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Hey, you want dinner? I was just about to cook.”
Steve runs a hand through his hair and nods. “Uh yeah, sounds good. What are you making?”
Eddie claps and rubs his hands together. "Good question Stevie! Let's see what we've got, shall we?" Steve looks a little like he’s second guessing his quick agreement, which makes Eddie laugh.
After a close inspection of the cabinets and the fridge, what they've got appears to be the bare fixings for chili, and a dusty box of elbow macaroni. There's no tomato paste, but ketchup will probably work. No ground beef either.
"Looks like the options are: chili mac with no meat, or chili mac with spam."
Steve wrinkles his nose. "Ugh. I vote for no meat."
"Snob,” Eddie snorts.
Steve peers over his shoulder as he gathers up his ingredients, poking through the sparse shelves of the fridge. "Jesus Munson, when's the last time you went to the store?"
Eddie shrugs as he cuts on the burners and sets a pan on the stove. "Kind of hard to do with my van on blocks out there. Uncle Wayne has a tough schedule to work around."
Steve frowns and lets the door of the fridge thump shut with a faint rattle. "You should have told me. I'll take you."
Eddie grits his teeth and lets his hair fall over his face as he cranks the can opener. “It’s not a big deal – we’re fine.”
It’s on the tip of his tongue to snap, to say something shitty or sarcastic or snarky, about how Steve doesn’t have to keep doing things for him all the time, he’s not helpless. But he doesn’t – because that would be a dick move when Steve is just trying to be nice. And he really values the unlikely friendship that’s been growing between them.
*****************
The makeshift meal isn't half bad. Eddie holds his hand under the spoon as he offers a taste to Steve, grinning as the other boy hums approvingly.
“Damn Munson, I didn’t know you could actually cook.”
A little fizzle of pride warms his chest. “I am a man of many talents Harrington. I’ll let you in on my secret: with enough cheese and garlic, anything can taste good.”
He saves a portion for Wayne, then divvies up the rest between two mismatched bowls. They take it into the living room and eat sitting side by side on the Munson's old yellow couch, Magnum PI playing on the grainy television.
Eleanor lays in the corner of the room, Calpurnia wrapped around her neck like a collar. Neither boy acknowledges it, although Eddie finds his gaze drawn repeatedly to the two daemons. They look so comfortable together. Shameless snake, he thinks toward Calpurnia – getting only a smug sense of satisfaction back.
When they've both scraped the bowls clean, Eddie collects Steve's dishes and carries them into the kitchen, stacking everything in the sink. He returns to the living room and hovers awkwardly, adjusting the rabbit ears on the television, even though the picture is already as good as it's gonna get. He doesn't want Steve to leave yet – it’s nice, not being alone with his thoughts for a while - but he doesn't really have a good excuse for him to stay.
"Oh," Steve says. "I've got some movies in the car, if you want to watch one? I grab stuff from the store sometimes.
"Yeah, that sounds good."
Steve runs out to the BMW, coming back with a whole stack of VHS tapes, and Eddie bursts out laughing. "I think you've been abusing the employee discount there Harrington."
Steve flushes pink and Eddie's heart trips a little. Second blush of the night – Eddie is on a roll.
He picks up one of the tapes, flipping it over to read the back of the box. None of the movies look like anything Steve would normally watch.
"I'm surprised Steve, I didn't realize you had such good taste."
Steve is bright red now, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "They're mostly Robin's suggestions. Dustin picked some too."
"Well that explains The Never-ending Story at least."
He doesn't let himself think too hard about the fact that Steve requested movie suggestions from Robin and Dustin, for movies that seem suspiciously tailored to Eddie's taste, carrying them around in his car like he was waiting for this opportunity. Sometimes Eddie reads too much into a situation, sees things that aren’t really there. It’s certainly happened before.
He sets aside Never-ending Story, and Alien - which feels a little too close to reality these days. He hesitates over Labyrinth but discards that one too; worried that the puppets might be a little much for Steve. Finally, he settles on a movie he hasn't seen before - something called Legend. It has Tom Cruise and Tim Curry in it, and promising cover art. He holds it up to Steve.
"How bout this one?"
Steve nods, so Eddie feeds the tape into the VCR and hits play before flopping back onto the sofa with a dramatic whoompf.
It's not a coincidence that he lands just a little closer to Steve than they were sitting before. He stretches his arms out along the back of the sofa casually. As the movie starts, Steve shuffles down until his legs are stretched out, and the back of his neck just touches the bare skin of Eddie's arm. It sends an electric little shiver through him, raising goosebumps up and down his arms.
He wonders if this is what being on a date feels like.
The movie's not bad. A little thin on plot maybe, but it makes up for it with gorgeous visuals; and the fact that Tom Cruise runs around with no pants for the entire movie. Steve asks a lot of questions, but Eddie doesn't mind. He's always been a bit of talker during movies.
"So, is that guy... the devil?"
"No. He's Darkness - like a living personification of evil."
Steve looks so bewildered; Eddie can't help but laugh. "Yeah, he's basically the devil."
They both jeer when Lily throws her ring into the water, and Steve gets surprisingly upset when the unicorn is killed.
It's fun. He and Steve have almost nothing in common, outside of shared trauma and a mutual friendship with Dustin Henderson, but he enjoys being around the guy. Even doing nothing - cooking dinner, hanging out, watching a movie - it's better with Steve there.
Sometimes Eddie has too much energy – it zings around in his brain and makes him want to crawl out of his skin, like he’s vibrating a step too fast for the world around him. It’s caused more than one bad decision in the past. But Steve is like a steady source of calm, a ground for his livewire brain.
It's almost 10 by the time the movie ends, and Steve is yawning, although he tries to hide it. Eddie shuffles over to the VCR and hits rewind, listening to the gears buzz as they spin, winding the tape back.
Steve gets to his feet slowly. "I guess I should head out."
“Sure,” Eddie hands the tape back. “This was fun – we should do it again sometime.” He stoops to let Calpurnia wind around his arm, then follows Steve and Eleanor to the door.
“Yeah,” Steve says, “definitely. Now that I know what an awesome cook you are.”
Eddie drapes himself dramatically against the doorframe. “Ah, be still my heart! Such high praise from his Majesty!”
Steve makes a rude noise and rolls his eyes, but he's smiling fondly as he leans up against the opposite side of the door frame. They're so close - separated by the intangible barrier of the open door; Eddie on the inside and Steve on the outside. If this were a date, he could lean over that line and kiss Steve goodnight. Instead, they share a long, weighted look before Steve steps back and clears his throat.
"See ya tomorrow Munson."
"Yeah. See you."
He stands in the door watching until the red taillights of the BMW have long disappeared down the dark road. Then he sighs heavily and lets the door creak shut. He looks down at Calpurnia and sighs. “What am I doing?”
*****************
Wayne is sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and the morning paper when Eddie gets up. Normally he would already be asleep by now, but Eddie needed a ride to school today. Now he's sitting there, hours past his usual bedtime, drinking coffee that's gonna fuck up his sleep schedule.
More reasons to feel guilty. "Good morning," he mumbles, on his way through to the kitchen.
"Mornin."
There aren't many options for breakfast. He stuffs some bread into the toaster and pushes down the slide, idly wishing for some eggs so he could make French toast, when Wayne says, "Someone stay over last night?"
Eddie turns to look at him. "Huh?" He's not his most eloquent in the mornings.
"There were extra dishes in the sink. Did you have a friend over last night?"
"Oh yeah." Eddie leans back against the counter on his elbows. "Steve stayed for dinner. Watched a movie after."
Wayne doesn't usually care if he has people over to the trailer, but ever since the incident last week he's been on high alert.
He folds the paper over carefully and tosses it onto the table. A muscle is jumping in his jaw. "The Harrington boy?" Wayne's jackrabbit daemon is sitting stock-still, nose trembling like she's scented danger.
"Yeah. He's my friend."
"Don't remember you being friends when you were in school together."
Eddie sighs. The toaster pops. He pinches the toast between his fingers and yanks it out, shoving it into his mouth as he opens the fridge. No jelly either; he lets the door slam shut and pours himself a glass of water.
"He's different now." Eddie says, dropping crumbs down his front.
Wayne looks unimpressed. "Is he the reason for the new look?"
Eddie looks down at himself, confused, before he realizes what his uncle is talking about. It’s not that different – he’s just toned things down a little, trying to stand out a little less for once. Inoffensive t-shirts, no jewelry or chains or handcuff belts, flannels layered on top instead of his leather jacket and battle vest (he's still trying to salvage those after their trip through the Upside Down).
The government cooked up a pretty impressive cover story to clear his name, with manufactured evidence ‘proving’ that Henry Creel, hidden away for years, was the real killer. Some people seem to believe it, others are still skeptical, and some (like Jason Carver and his cronies) think it’s an outright lie. He’s trying not to give the latter crowd any extra excuses to go after him these days.
"No. He's not. I'm just trying to make it to the end of the school year without any more trouble. Thought you would appreciate that."
Wayne chews on the inside of his cheek and scowls.
They go about the rest of the morning routine in silence. Eddie shoves his feet into his Reeboks and lets Calpurnia tuck herself under the collar of his flannel shirt before shrugging on his backpack. Wayne purses his lips but doesn't comment.
They don't speak again until Wayne pulls into the school parking lot. "Think I'll go to the store on my way home. You got any special requests?"
"Stuff for shepherd’s pie maybe?" It's one of Wayne's favorites.
"Sure thing kid." He reaches over and grips the back of Eddie's neck, giving him a fond little shake. "You stay safe today."
*****************
On Friday, Eddie is the only one not wearing a Hellfire shirt. He hasn’t had the chance to make a replacement for the one that got trashed over spring break; Upside Down gunk does not wash out of white cotton.
They weren’t able to start playing again right away – it took a little time to convince Principal Higgins that Hellfire is not, in fact, a cult. There was a moment when Eddie felt like it might be more trouble than it was worth – when he tried to give the other guys an out.
Dustin was the first one to refuse, and he did it loudly.
"No! Hellfire is our refuge, remember? A safe place for the outcasts and weirdos and freaks. We can't let them take it away from us."
Gareth was still sporting a black eye at the time, purple fading into jaundiced yellow and green, still flinching every time Jason passed him in the hallway; but he offered his support as well. "Henderson's right."
Everyone else agreed - even Sinclair, who'd made the choice to stick by Eddie and the rest of his friends rather than the basketball team.
They’d all petitioned Higgins, and Nancy helped Dustin put together an ironclad presentation on why Dungeons & Dragons was just a harmless game, until the man finally relented (Eddie still suspects Hopper may have had a hand in it).
Ever since Chrissy died, Eddie feels like he’s been losing pieces of himself, little bits chipping away under the pressure – his confidence, his sense of safety, the band, his van. Getting Hellfire back is like finding one of those lost pieces, filling in a little hole. It feels good.
It’s normal for Eddie to get to the auditorium a little early, to start setting up – but today he’s even earlier than usual. The excitement’s been fizzing through him all day, he’s been fidgety, scribbling D&D notes in the margins of his schoolwork. There’s only a month left to play out the end of Eddie’s final campaign as a Hawkins High student, and he’s determined to make it unforgettable.
The stage is dark when he arrives, which never bothered him before - but Eddie has learned there are all kinds of reasons to fear the dark now. He jogs to the panel on the back wall and hits the switches to bring up the stage lights, shoulders only relaxing once the stage is fully illuminated. He swings his backpack off his shoulder as he turns, and then freezes.
The elaborate throne that Eddie always sits in as DM has been dragged to the center of the stage. It sits brightly illuminated against the scuffed black floor, golden paint glowing in the stage lights.
A dead snake has been nailed to the backrest, hanging limp against the crushed velvet cushion. I wonder where they found it, he thinks numbly. Early in the year for snakes.
"Poor thing," Calpurnia whispers.
He approaches slowly. There's a note too, stuck on the nail. Blocky red letters read "You're next." It’s written on plain college rule, three-hole paper, torn from someone’s notebook, which is totally at odds with the rest of the macabre scene. No fucking creativity.
The initial numb feeling is swiftly consumed by fury, and Eddie welcomes it. It’s either that, or cry. He tears the piece of paper away and crumples it savagely in his fist. “Goddamn cowards! Stupid, ignorant, self-righteous pieces of shit! You’re fucking hypocrites!!!
He lets out a frustrated scream that bounces off the floor and walls, echoing in the acoustics of the stage.
Eddie knows who this is: it’s Jason, and all his little basketball player friends. But there’s no proof, and no one is going to touch golden-boy sports star Jason Carver without something rock solid. Higgins will just call it a harmless prank.
He jumps off the stage hard enough to rattle his teeth and stomps out to the hallway where he raids the janitor’s closet; stealing a big heavy trash bag, a pair of gloves, and some pliers.
“What are you doing?” Calpurnia says. “We should tell Hopper. He said to let him know, if anything else happened.”
“We’ll tell him later. There’s nothing he can do with this. And I’m not letting those assholes ruin this night for the kids.”
With the gloves protecting his hands, he grips the nail with the pliers and pries it out of the wood, leaving a small splintered hole behind. He wrinkles his nose at the sickly-sweet scent of meat just starting to turn, and delicately drops the snake carcass into the trash bag. Shoves the crumpled note in after, then strips off the gloves and tosses them in too.
He ties the top of the bag into a knot and yanks it tight. He could toss it in one of the bins by the door, but he wants it as far away as possible, so he carries it all the way around the building to the dumpster behind the cafeteria. Shoves it under empty, industrial sized cans of corn and expired cartons of milk – visualizes shoving the whole basketball team in with it.
He is not going to let them get to him. Not today. He repeats it, trying to slow his pounding heart, banging like Gareth on the drums, but it doesn’t work. It’s easier to say something than it is to feel it, and he can’t talk his body into calming down.
When he finally gets back to the auditorium, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are waiting.
"Dude, where were you? We were getting worried." Dustin's voice is deliberately light, but there's tension in his face.
"Don't get your panties in a twist Henderson, I just stepped out for a smoke. Why are you three just standing there, get your asses in gear! You need to practice setting this shit up anyway – I won’t be here to do it for you next year."
He bullies them into helping, dictating the setup of the space with an insistence on perfection, down to the placement of the last candle - hoping to distract Dustin and that clever brain of his.
It's not entirely successful. Eddie can tell he's off his game tonight. Every time he feels his back press against the throne he shudders, skin crawling, and loses track of his thoughts; he's distracted and jumpy. By the end of the night Dustin is watching him with worried eyes, occasionally bending his head to conference with Mike or Lucas - and Eddie is pretty sure they're not discussing strategy.
They wrap things up around 8 as usual. Gareth has to take off - his mother started giving him a curfew after the murders - and Jeff goes with him, since they live near each other. Lucas and Mike are biking home; they wave goodbye after sharing a meaningful glance with Dustin, who hangs back.
Eddie pretends to ignore him, readjusting the books in his backpack to try and make everything fit. It was a lot easier when he could just throw all of this stuff into his van.
"Are you okay Eddie?"
"Yeah," Eddie lies. "Why do you ask?"
Dustin's mouth twists doubtfully. "You seem... weird tonight. Did something happen?"
Eddie's eyes dart to Dustin's daemon, Penelope. The raccoon is sniffing curiously around the stage floor, clever fingers running over the black painted boards. He hopes the smell of the snake isn't still noticeable.
"Nope." It comes out too loud, too cheerful. You're trying too hard, Calpurnia whispers in his head. Why won't you just tell him?
Dustin and the rest of the kids have been dealing with Upside Down problems for years – saving the world and fighting horrifying monsters, while the rest of Hawkins didn’t have a clue. They’ve spent some formative, childhood years under a lot of pressure because of that, and now that Vecna is dead they all deserve to finally move on and live normal lives. The last thing Eddie wants is to drag them down with his shit.
He scrubs his knuckles over the top of Dustin’s head, knocking his hat sideways and prompting an outraged shriek.
He can deal with this on his own.
*****************
The following week is surprisingly uneventful, and Eddie dares to hope that maybe his tormentors are getting bored. Maybe they’re just busy - the end of the school year is approaching fast after all, and even psychotic jocks with a grudge have to study.
On Friday, there are no more dead snakes or cryptic notes in the auditorium. Eddie throws himself into the campaign with renewed fervor, buzzing with relief. His energy is infectious - it's a raucous night all around, the most fun they've had since the night of the big game.
They're still laughing, rehashing a risky gambit by Lucas that saved the day on a lucky roll, as they all clatter through the doors into the parking lot.
Steve is already waiting, BMW parked conspicuously right up front. He's leaned against the side of the car, legs crossed at the ankles, casually tossing a ball like he's got nothing better to do. He doesn't seem to be paying any attention to his surroundings, but Eleanor is alert beside him.
Eddie narrows his eyes. The Beamer is wet, water beading on the hood and roof of the car, and there's a dry patch of pavement underneath.
It was raining earlier. Pouring actually - they laughed about it at the start of the game, because the sound of water drumming against the roof of the auditorium was so loud, they had to practically shout to hear each other. It didn't last long, only thirty minutes or so.
Which means Harrington has been out here the whole time.
Dustin must have said something to him after last week. It's the only explanation. He's about to go after the kid and demand an explanation, when Gareth snags the sleeve of his shirt.
Eddie turns to look at him. Gareth's eyes are on Steve as he says, "Hey man, you need a ride tonight?"
Eddie blinks in confusion. "You have a curfew. You have to be home in like 10 minutes."
Gareth shrugs. He's tense, strung tight as a badly tuned guitar. "My mom can handle me being late one time. I don't think you should walk home tonight." He tilts his chin in Steve's direction, gesturing like he's trying not to be obvious about it.
"Wait, you think Steve...?" Eddie bursts into laughter. "He's here to give me a ride dude."
The other boy doesn't laugh. "Are you crazy? He's one of them. Fucking 'King Steve' - he used to be Jason's idol! He's probably luring you into some kind of trap."
Gareth and the other guys don’t have all the information. They know that Jason doesn’t believe the Henry Creel story, and that he still blames Eddie for Chrissy’s death – that’s kind of hard to miss, considering the way Jason talks about it all the time. And they’re not stupid; they know Eddie didn’t trash his own van, and they’ve probably seen some of the shit that’s been written on his locker.
But he hasn’t been able to explain what really happened over the week of spring break; which means he also can’t explain why he trusts Steve. Why they’re friends now.
He tilts his head, waits for Gareth to meet his eyes and holds his gaze. "Trust me, Steve is not like that. And he's definitely not friends with Jason."
Gareth scowls and looks back in the direction of the BMW. Steve is waving at the kids as they take off across the parking lot on their bikes, but Eleanor's eyes are fixed on Gareth and Eddie, head lowered, ears pricked forward. He wonders if she can hear them.
"Eddie," Gareth says. "His daemon is a wolf."
A lot of people judge others based on their daemons. It’s common in a small-minded, conservative little town like Hawkins. Wolves are vicious, rats are dirty, snakes are sneaky… blah, blah, blah. Ignorant bullshit.
“Oh, is that so Gareth?” He can hear the bitter chill in his own voice.
Gareth flinches like he’s been slapped, eyes going wide. “That’s… I didn’t mean…”
Eddie still remembers the first day they met: spotting the tiny freshman with a mop of curly hair sitting on his own in the cafeteria. He was cradling his little brown rat daemon in his hands as if he could hide her, cringing every time someone made a crack about rats and food. He’d been terrified at first when Eddie approached him – an intimidating junior in a Megadeath t-shirt, decked out in silver rings and chains with his brightly colored snake daemon coiled around his arm. And then Eddie sat down at the table and asked him if he’d ever heard of D&D, and that was that.
“What did you mean?”
Gareth breathes out a shaky sigh. "I just... I know there's stuff you're not telling us. And I know you're still having trouble with Jason - that guy's a fucking psycho Eddie, he was practically ready to break my hand just so he could find you. I'm worried about you." His voice is shaking – his friend is genuinely frightened.
Eddie swallows and rubs his arms. The wounds left by the demobats have healed into shiny pink scars hidden by his sleeves. It's the same with Gareth - the bruises Jason gave him have faded, but everything leaves a mark - even when you can't see it.
Scars on the heart.
He looks down, picking at his cuticles. He misses his rings. "I'm sorry I got you involved in that,” he says roughly.
"It's not your fault."
It doesn’t feel that way. Sometimes it feels like Eddie is cursed, spreading misfortune wherever he goes – an insidious, slow-acting poison.
Red touches black, poison lack. Red touches yellow, kill a fellow. A silly rhyme, to help remember the difference between a harmless kingsnake and a deadly coral snake. Wayne taught it to him when he was fourteen, and Calpurnia settled in the form of a scarlet kingsnake.
Given the way people recoil when they see his daemon, he's pretty sure no one else in Hawkins has ever heard it before. Or maybe it doesn't matter - maybe Eddie is the one they think is toxic.
Maybe he really is.
He clears his throat, makes a show of checking his watch. "You've gotta go man - if you're late your mom might ban you from Hellfire."
"Shit," Gareth mutters. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"
"Trust me." He grins, easy and arrogant, the way he did when he first convinced the band to start playing at the Hideout. Projecting confidence like a magic spell. He slugs Gareth in the shoulder for good measure, and then spins on his heel and walks away.
Steve doesn't say anything as he slides into the BMW. Just gets in and starts the car, Eleanor stretched out silently in the back. Eddie still doesn't know how sharp the wolf's hearing is - for all he knows she heard that whole conversation.
He waits until they're halfway back to the trailer before he says anything. "Next time you should just come in. I know you think it's lame, but it would probably be more interesting than sitting in the parking lot."
Steve glances at him sharply, then yanks his eyes back toward the road. He squeezes the wheel nervously. "I uh.. don't know what you're talking about."
Eddie snorts. "Sure Stevie."
Steve sighs. "Dustin said something might have happened last week."
Eddie looks out the window. It's dark out, so there's not much to see. Just trees flashing past the brief bubble of the headlights, and the occasional glimpse of stars through tangled branches.
Would he poison Steve with his bad luck too?
"You don't have to keep doing this," he says stiffly.
Steve frowns. "Doing what?"
"Looking out for me. Giving me rides, hanging around during Hellfire. Sending Eleanor to walk me home. You've done enough."
Steve looks away from the road, then looks back. His brows are pinched together, eyes uncertain - he's genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?"
It’s like he can't even imagine not doing those things. So how can Eddie convince him to stop?
He could tell him that he doesn't want to be friends maybe - try to drive him away. Dustin would never let him get away with it; he would have to drive them all away: Steve, Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, Nancy and Robin.
He should do it – to keep them safe, to guarantee this shit with Jason won’t touch them… but the thought of it is so painful his chest aches, heart squeezing like it might burst.
He knows that he’s capable of bravery - he proved it to himself when he cut that rope and offered himself up to the cyclone of demobats, to save Dustin and buy more time for the others (even though Steve still argues that it was stupid, that he didn’t need to prove anything to anyone).
But right now, he still feels like a coward, because he can’t do it.
"Just…. remember to look out for yourself too, okay?"
"Sure," Steve says, with a lopsided smile. Something in it doesn't feel entirely honest.
*****************
It's an unseasonably hot day for early May - nearly 80 degrees in the midday sun. Laid up under his van, wrestling with the fuel line, it feels more like 90.
"Shit!" Eddie whacks his elbow one more time and decides to give it up for the day. He drags himself out from under the van and wipes his wrist across his forehead.
Calpurnia snickers at him from her perch on the rearview mirror. "Lovely," she says.
He looks at himself in the mirror and scowls. He's been trying not to touch his face, yet somehow there's still a big smudge of grease across his nose. "How did that even happen?" he mutters, pulling the hem of his tank top up to wipe it off.
"I think you need a bath," Calpurnia says helpfully.
"Ugh." He tugs on his sweaty hair. "What I need is to get this van working, so I'm not fucking trapped here anymore!"
He's going stir crazy. The trailer is stifling. He's run out of weed, with no resupply in sight until Rick gets out of jail (whenever that might be), and the only beer in the house is Wayne's disgusting Old Milwaukee. He's reached the point where he's starting to consider the special-k. It’s probably still sitting in its little tin, stuffed under the front seat of the van where he dropped it after running from Chrissy’s body.
Wayne would be upset though. He hasn’t touched the stuff in years, ever since he went too far one night, and his uncle found him passed out on the floor of the trailer. When he finally came back to himself after that one, sweaty and shaking, Wayne looked like he'd aged ten years. (Christ almighty kid, you scared me half to death. You can't keep doing this shit - you never know when to stop.)
He grabs Wayne's keys instead, and clips his Walkman to the waist of his jeans (since the truck doesn't have a tape deck). He sticks a note to the fridge, promising to be back before Wayne's shift starts, and heads out the door.
He feels like he can finally breathe, flying down the highway with the window down, wind drying the sweat on his forehead into a salty crust. He passes the ruin of Starcourt, and then the little strip mall that houses Family Video. If he’d thought to clean up first, he could stop by and see if Steve and Robin are working today – but he’s disgusting right now, so he keeps going. He drives out to the quarry instead, intending to sit and listen to music until the sun goes down.
When he reaches the last bend of the gravel drive, he sees a familiar maroon BMW parked off to the side and his breath catches in his throat. What are the odds? He feels like a magnet, drawn against his will - or maybe like he's a compass and Steve is some kind of gate. Disrupting the electromagnetic fields or whatever - fucking Eddie up, giving him a new true north.
It's not too late to turn around, find somewhere else to hang out for the day - he still looks like shit after all, and even though Steve is straight and there is literally no chance for his steady-growing crush to go anywhere, he still likes to feel like he looks good in front of the guy. His hands move without him, shifting the clutch into park and cutting the engine. Calpurnia is excited, twisting around his arm. She looks nice at least; scales throwing scarlet fire in the sunlight.
Steve is sitting at the overlook, arms draped over his bent knees, just watching the view and enjoying the faint breeze funneled through by the cliff walls.
"Fancy meeting you here Harrington."
Steve flinches and turns. His face lights up when he sees Eddie, and Eleanor's tail starts thumping against the ground. Eddie tries to pretend like that doesn't just make his whole goddamn day, that they're so happy to see him.
Steve leans back on his hands and looks Eddie up and down. "I like the grease monkey getup - you get your van fixed?"
Eddie grabs a seat next to the other boy, hoping the heat hides his flush. He very carefully sits just close enough that their arms brush when he copies Steve's casual pose.
"Some of it. Unfortunately, it's not going anywhere until I can find the money for some new tires. They are beyond patching."
Steve clicks his tongue in sympathy. Eddie digs a crumpled box of Camels out of his pocket and taps one out. Steve looks over at the snap of the lighter, watches him cup his hand around the flame as the cigarette catches. He puffs twice before holding the cigarette out between two fingers, eyebrows raised at Steve. He meant to ask, do you want one?
But Steve takes the cigarette from him and presses it between his lips, breathing deep before handing it back, blowing a stream of smoke over his shoulder. Eddie's mouth goes a little dry. He has a whole box of cigs - Steve saw him pull it out. It's not really necessary for them to share, but Eddie’s certainly not going to argue.
"So, what brings you out here? Figured you'd be hanging out by the pool, in this heat."
Steve makes a pained face, like Eddie might have poked a bruise. "I don't uh... really swim in the pool anymore. It's got some bad memories."
"Oh."
Eddie understands bad memories. He still can't stand in the middle of his own living room. Can't look at the roof of the trailer.
"Plus," Steve sighs heavily, "my parents are home still." He drags his fingers through his hair. It’s something he seems to do whenever he’s trying to settle himself. Sensing that the other boy has more to say, Eddie stays quiet and lets him gather his thoughts.
"It should be a good thing, right? I never see them anymore - they were just gone for like three months. I should be happy to spend time with them. But all I can think is how relieved I am that they're leaving again tomorrow."
Eddie doesn't know anything about the Harrington's, except that they're rich, and they travel a lot. Steve never talks about them. Even in school, all anyone ever knew was that Steve threw killer house parties because his parents were always gone.
"Is everything... okay?"
He hands the cigarette over again and Steve takes a hard drag, cheeks hollowed, before passing it back.
"Just tired of hearing about what a disappointment I am. How I'm wasting every advantage I've been given, going nowhere in my life - 'Honestly Steven, where did we go wrong with you?'"
Steve's disdainful, haughty impression of his father, followed by the beaten little slump of his shoulders, hurts Eddie's heart.
"I keep trying, right? But it's never good enough. Just like school. All the trying in the world can't change the fact that I'm stupid." Steve shrugs, a wry little 'what can you do?' twist to his smile.
"You're not stupid," Eddie says fiercely. He passes the cigarette back but doesn't let go when Steve tries to take it. He waits for Steve's eyes to come up, meeting his own before he says it again. "You're not stupid Steve."
The other boy’s fingers tremble a little as Eddie finally releases the cigarette. He looks away as he smokes, watching the grey water below them. Runs his fingers through his hair again. When the cigarette is done, burnt up to the filter, he crushes it against the ground between them and flicks the butt over the edge of the rocky outcrop.
Eddie leans a little closer, pressing their shoulders together, and Steve leans back against him.
"I guess it doesn't really matter. At this point... I could probably get into fucking Harvard, and he still wouldn't forgive me. The whole thing with Eleanor - that's when he really gave up on me."
The "thing with Eleanor" must be referring to what happened in 1983.
Before 1983, Steve's daemon was a golden retriever. She had been for years, ever since middle school. Eddie remembered seeing them walking down the hall together, perfectly preppy Steve Harrington with Eleanor at his side, glossy golden fur swaying and head up like a show dog. She was beautiful, like Steve, and perfectly average. Everyone thought she was settled.
And then one day in November 1983, Steve walked into the cafeteria with a black eye, a busted lip, and a wolf at his side instead. The school buzzed about it for months. Even Eddie, who normally couldn't care less about high school gossip, had been eaten up with curiosity.
"I know it's none of my business, but uh... what happened exactly?"
Steve scratches the side of his neck, watching Eleanor thoughtfully. "I got into a fight with Jonathan Byers. I was... kind of a dick about some stuff."
Eddie can't help but snort at that.
Steve grins a little sheepishly. "I tried to apologize that night, but Jonathan and Nancy were trying to trap a demogorgon. It started coming through the wall and I freaked out." He laughs ruefully. "I ran to my car, but then I had this feeling... like they were gonna die if I didn't do something. We ran back into the house, and I grabbed this bat Jonathan had - and then Eleanor was a wolf. We fought the demogorgon long enough for Nancy's trap to work, and then when things calmed down... Eleanor didn't change back."
Dustin had given Eddie a run-down on the history of the Upside Down in Hawkins, after Vecna was dead and they actually had time to talk about it. So, Eddie knows what a demogorgon is, and he can sort of picture it. Wishes he could have been there to see it.
"Dr. Owens said it's a thing that happens sometimes - like, it's really rare, but it's not impossible for a teenager’s daemon to change after trauma. But Dr. Owens never talked to my parents, so my dad just thought I'd been lying for years about being settled. Like I was trying to hide the fact that I had an ‘unsuitable’ daemon. He was so pissed."
Steve is probably one of the best people Eddie has ever met. He can think of at least half a dozen moments when the other boy put himself on the line for someone else, and that's just off the top of his head. He’s caring, and generous, and has a huge heart. The fact that he's sitting here feeling bad about himself, believing that he's some kind of disappointment - it makes Eddie furious. He squeezes his hand into a fist and imagines slugging Mr. Harrington right in the face.
"Fuck your dad. He's an asshole, and an idiot."
Steve blinks, taken aback, and then smiles slowly. It's a shy, crooked little thing - not suave or smooth or confident, like his usual smiles. Eddie wants to capture it, take it home and put it under his pillow for safekeeping. It makes him feel a little crazy.
The little crush that he’s been nursing ever since spring break keeps growing, bit by bit. It’s not just a physical attraction anymore – it’s Steve’s dorky laugh when Eddie makes comments during movies, and warm brown eyes on him when he goofs around with the kids, and the knowledge that Steve is always on guard, watching Eddie’s back. These feelings are threatening to turn into something really dangerous, if he lets them; a fire that will burn him.
But if he's not strong enough to give this friendship up for Steve's protection, then he's certainly not strong enough to do it in order to protect himself.