Chapter Text
chapter one
memory one
It’s 1986. He’s running.
He’s running so hard, chest heaving, inhaling the shit from the Upside Down.
He sees Dustin in the distance crowded over a limp body. He’s screaming. Nancy and Robin are behind him.
“Who is that?!” Robin cries. “Steve! Who is it?” Steve can’t find words, just allows a chesty bellow as he urges his legs to go faster. Nancy grabs Robin’s arm and directs them both towards Eddie’s trailer, she screams towards Steve, “Steve! We’re going to the gate, you have to come with us.” “I will, let me get them, you go!” he shouts.
He crashes to the floor, skidding on his knees as he stumbles into Dustin. “Dustin!” he flings his arms around him. “What happened? Tell me what happened?!” Dustin says nothing, just screams, shouting Eddie’s name.
Steve looks down. Eddie is lifeless below him.
Dustin cradling him in his arms. “Dustin…is he breathing?” Dustin is unresponsive. “DUSTIN!” “I don’t know. I don’t know!” Steve checks him over.
Everything is red.
His mouth is red, eyes bloodshot red, the white of what is left of his shirt soaked through red. Steve does not like the colour red. It can’t mean anything good. “Fuck,” he chokes, “Eddie? Eddie, can you hear me? Please?” He leans close, pulls the bandana off his head and pushes his hair off of his face.
He considers for a moment, tears filling his eyes, chest heaving, all the little moments flashing through his mind. “Fuck,” he says again, this time low, under his breath as he hovers his face over him, pressing their mouths together. He breathes into him, tipping his head back, begging in his mind for him to please take it, then starts to pound on his chest.
Red is on his hands now.
Dustin cries at first “Steve! Stop! You’re hurting him!” Steve ignores him, continues to administer CPR. He’s never done this on a real person before. Only ever on dummies for lifeguard training.
It was not the same.
“C’MON!” He’s screaming in between breaths, crying and spluttering as he tries relentlessly to bring him back. Dustin is leaning over Eddie’s body now, sombre little sobs leaving him.
An indeterminable amount of time passes, Dustin sobbing, Steve trying to bring Eddie back, checking his pulse. “Okay,” Steve says, leaning back on his feet and running a shaking hand through his hair.
A morbid feeling overwhelms him, tasting Eddie on his mouth.
He touches his own lips with trembling fingers, closes his eyes.
" Dustin, you need to go.”
I’m not leaving without him.”
“Dustin, man, please, do as I say.”
“Steve! Bring him, or I’m not coming back.”
Steve looks down at Eddie’s lifeless body, and the thread that was precariously holding his life together, snaps.
It’s 1999. One more year until the big millennium. Steve has reached his 30s, which he still can’t quite believe. He’s shocked he’s made it this far alive, but then after the events of 1986, anything is possible.
Steve is living in an old apartment building in downtown Chicago with a friend he met through work. Steve loves the big windows that let in light throughout the full day. Golden hour is his favourite.
He met Ryan his first day working in an independent coffee shop, called “The Shop”, and they were both looking for somewhere permanent to live downtown. They immediately clicked. Ryan is cool, and dorky. The best combination. He loves brit pop and introduced Steve to the world of Blur and Oasis. They fantasise about road tripping around the UK one day.
What he thought would be a temporary job at the coffee shop, turned into his whole life. He had wanted to go into teaching, but chronic headaches after many head injuries had stopped him from completing community college, and the one assistant job he did manage to swindle, he couldn’t last the long hours without needing to knock back drugs and take a midday nap. Luckily, his skills gained from Family Video and Scoops Ahoy made him a pretty great coffee shop manager, plus the shift work was perfect to manage around his migraines.
In 1994, the original owner of The Shop decided to sell up, so Steve and Ryan pitched together to buy the place. He had made friends with everyone who worked there, some the same age as the Hawkins kids, and he couldn’t bear to think what would happen if some big wig suit bought the place.
Naturally, he was parental over them.
His own parents never came back after Hawkins split into four back in ‘86, but they did leave him the house and a trust fund in an attempt to make up for their absence. Steve hadn’t used it for anything until that point, other than the one-way ticket to Chicago. He hadn’t spoken to them since.
There were many reasons he decided to leave Hawkins. There definitely was not one single event that pushed him over the edge. Just lots of equally meaningful snack-size moments that made him realise he couldn’t stay around any longer.
Besides, the kids had all grown up by this point, turned into their own adults, and they were cool too, using the little government hush money they each gained to their advantage.
And they just kept getting cooler as time went on. After they saved the world, Will channelled his energy into art. Now, he lives back in California with a small studio on the beach. He likes the heat, the sun, and the perfect lighting to paint. Steve had made it to all of his major exhibitions; a few of his artsy friends here in Chicago couldn’t believe he was old pals with the Will Byers.
In an only slightly surprising turn of events, El and Mike didn’t stay together, but El moved with Will. They became best friends, after everything. She was a florist now, among many other things.
Lucas…struggled more than the others. Max never woke up, and the final time they fought Vecna, they couldn’t save her. It was gut wrenching. Tragic. Everybody was broken. For a long time, Lucas stayed at home and the group’s only updates were via Erica.
Eventually though, Steve played basketball with him every Sunday, a ritual he thinks he got a lot more out of than Lucas at first. It reignited his love for the sport and he worked hard . Until one day it was the last Sunday and Lucas ended up getting spotted for the Indiana Pacers. Steve went to every game that first season, even when he was on the bench.
Dustin got himself an internship with Microsoft up in Seattle. Definitely had nothing to do with Suzie switching up his grades slightly when he graduated. But hey, everyone knew he was more than capable for the job.
Mike ended up moving to Seattle too, he was in a band now, and they were doing pretty well. He had caught him a few times playing gigs in Chicago and it was…very cool. Steve stood at the back mostly, arms crossed, head bopping along to the angry bass. Steve had actually gotten into music a lot more after ‘86. Someone taught him how to play guitar a little, he was surprisingly good at it.
Then there were the adults. Nancy and Jonathan broke up, but they stayed friends. Nancy moved to New York city, a journalist for the New York Times, of course. Jonathan also moved to New York to pursue a career in photography, although he went some years after Nancy, reluctant to leave Will, despite him proving himself many times he was fine now.
Last but not least, his beautiful best friend Robin. She had moved to Chicago too, a few years after Steve, not before she went road tripping with a girl she met at a bar. Girl-at-bar turned into long-term girlfriend and they live together in an apartment five blocks away from Steve and Ryan.
They spend most weekends having dinner at each other’s places. For a little while, Robin’s girlfriend, Rachel, thought Steve and Ryan were an item. She was incredibly wrong, Ryan definitely preferred girls, but it wasn’t something Steve had completely struck off the table for awhile.
Steve’s life is…pretty good. It was far from his old domesticated dream, six lil nuggets and travelling in an RV, but it was a new kind of dream.
He was comfortable, had good friends, made decent money and enjoyed his life. Chicago was booming so the coffee shop was doing great. He was actually really proud of himself on that front.
And had no real complaints. Other than his (somewhat manageable) chronic pain and the grief that still hurts as bad as it ever did but is just less frequent, he’s generally calm and collected. He doesn’t let himself think about what could or should have been.
When he dreams of Max, he wakes up and writes down all the things he’s grateful for. A reminder to make the most of the life that he’s got.
memory two
It’s 1987. Steve’s house is still intact and has become the spot where everyone practically lives. Other than Lucas, who couldn’t face anyone. Hopper made the executive decision to keep everyone together.
Three months after the earth shattered, El faced Vecna again, except this time with Will by her side, who they learnt could use his connection to the upside down to his advantage. There was plotting, weapons, fuck loads of injuries, but Vecna was defeated.
The cost however, was Max.
They tried to save her, but her mind was lost, and the hospital dissolved into a new reddened crack that took her body with it. Steve thought he heard El say that Max sacrificed herself so they could survive. He didn’t ask any more questions.
The grief for Eddie was like a burning hole in his chest.
It was on fire, constantly. It hurt when he swallowed, felt painful to eat.
He woke every night with the feeling of Eddie’s weight in his arms and blood on his hands. Screaming.
The grief for Max was different. The burning hole didn’t extinguish in the slightest, in fact, it burned more. But this grief was in the front of Steve’s throat, always on the edge of spilling over and out of his mouth. Keeping his head straight on his shoulders felt like a constant effort.
And now, 92 days later, the group is just about hanging on. Those that stayed, and survived, in Hawkins are pulling it together at the seams, taking their time to rebuild what they lost. Most people left, and the rest know they will sometime soon. The government provided the group with some hush money and supplies. They fixed up some houses and went on their merry way.
Steve wasn’t sure how he found himself here, but he detoured on his way home from getting supplies. He pulls into a clearing in the woods and rests his head against the steering wheel. This morning he was close to a breakdown and thinks it’s better he takes his time before returning back to play happy dad.
The burning hole in his chest is an inferno.
He looks up and sees in the distance, Hopper’s cabin. They started to patch it up for El six months earlier, but with everyone wanting to be together, they hadn’t set foot back here. Steve takes a deep breath, how nice it would be to take a nap in the cabin alone, nothing but birds and the breeze through the trees to disturb him. It would certainly do good for the constant ache behind his eyes.
He makes his way to the front door and pushes, rattling the door handle a couple of times, but of course it’s locked. “Ah fuck,” he mumbles, and turns to go back to the car.
Not before he hears the door unlock behind him.
“Steve.”
He’s frozen. He moves his head to the side. “What?” The voice again.
“Steve.”
He turns quickly, and sees Eddie, standing in the doorway.
Steve stands completely expressionless two metres away from him. The last time he had seen Eddie his dead body was whisked away in an ambulance, escorted by the government to fuck knows where. Steve had to hold Dustin back as he scrambled to chase the cars. Steve had carried Eddie’s body to Robin and Nancy who were waiting at the gate in Eddie’s trailer. Nancy made no noise, Robin cried and screamed and shook as they carefully manoeuvred him through to the real world. He was dead.
“Are you real?” Steve is almost too fucking scared to ask. He knows he’s going crazy, but this would be too much.
“I’m real,” Eddie says shakily.
Steve takes two steps forward. Eddie responds, slowly, mirroring his steps.
“I…I promise, man. I’m real.”
Steve is taking strong, deep breaths now. His chest heaving as he takes another step, each time Eddie stepping in unison only when Steve makes the first move.
Eventually, they’re standing close, having met at the bottom of the steps that lead up to the cabin. Steve searches Eddie’s face, literally checking him for life, looking everywhere but directly in his eyes. Then he grasps him, his arms around his neck, one hand scrunched into his hair. The embrace has so much force he knocks them backwards, falling onto the steps.
Gasping for air, eyes stinging, Steve still clings to Eddie as they lay awkwardly across the steps. Eddie is definitely saying words, but Steve’s ears are ringing, his head buzzing.
“I don’t understand. You’re…you were dead,” Steve manages to blurt out. He removes himself from the embrace and leans back, now kneeling on the step below were Eddie is sat.
“I know,” he looks down at Steve. He feels a tear roll down his cheek. Steve thinks for a moment Eddie might touch his face. “But apparently…you saved me, Harrington.”
Turns out, Hopper found out where Eddie was after Steve brought him back. Dustin told Hopper all about Eddie and his sacrifice for the group, and did what he could. He kept it on the down low in case it wasn’t good news.
Eddie told Steve he had the faintest pulse, heart restarted by CPR. Another two minutes lifeless, he wouldn’t have made it. He was in a coma for three fucking months and when Hopper made sure it was safe, he negotiated with the government to let him bring Eddie back. He could, as long as he was confined until they could sort a new identity and location for him. Which they hadn’t yet. “Not exactly top of their agenda,” Eddie laughed.
Steve thinks he’s in shock. “I’m in shock, I think,” he confirms aloud, throat scratchy. Steve catches Eddie’s eyes properly for the first time. They sit, eyes locked, deep breaths. Eddie does touch Steve’s face now, one hand on his cheek, the other on his shoulder.
Steve starts to feel grounded, his pulse slowing.
“It’s pretty bat shit crazy, right?”
“I’m losing my head,” Steve responds, closing his eyes to stop any more tears falling. The last time he let himself properly cry was when his mouth was on Eddie’s.
“Hey,” Eddie says, nurturing.“Mine’s already lost.”
It’s a crisp January morning in Chicago. Steve wakes with a pen in his hand and a scrunched up piece of paper next to him. Not a dreamless sleep, clearly. He squints at the writing, can only make out a few words without his glasses. Something along the lines of “winter sun, Robin, comfy bed”. All things last night’s Steve was grateful for.
He’s opening up the shop today, so doesn’t treat himself to his usual slow awakening. He’s not quite reached his mid 30s but everything aches first thing in the morning, particularly his head. He grabs the glass of water on the side and chugs it down, along with two aspirins before heading to the bathroom.
He spots Catherine, Ryan’s girlfriend, in the kitchen from his peripheral vision so pops his head round and gives a little wave. She gives a sweet wave back, sat at the bar reading the paper, soft, sparkling sun shining through the big windows.
His shower is quick, and he pulls on a button down shirt, loose fitted blue jeans, a navy Nike sweatshirt and an orange beanie to cover his damp hair.
He meets Catherine in her dressing gown in the hallway and she hands him his winter jacket as he puts on his converse. For a few months now, he’s wondered about moving out, even though this is just as much his place as Ryan’s. He loves them, but he sometimes feels they’re too nice to say anything about wanting to be alone, maybe start a family. He knows they would never move out of their own accord, leaving him alone in their big apartment with no one else to fill it.
He arrives at work with his usual winter routine; pulls up the shutters, makes a coffee and cranks up the heating. He flicks through the vinyls aimlessly, not knowing what his mood is today, until he spots an old battered black & purple cover.
Black Sabbath.
Does he want to feel pain today? Sure. “Aah, fuck it,” he says as he puts on the A side.
“Goooood morning, Stevie,” Robin chimes like clockwork as she strolls through the door like it is she who in fact owns the place.
She’s grasping a bagel in one hand, clutching a magazine in the other. Steve glances up over his glasses, and rests his hands on the counter top leaning forward towards her. “Oh good morning, Robs,” he smiles. “Double espresso or iced mocha kind of day? I can’t tell.”
She says nothing and simply slams down the magazine on the counter top between his hands, a mouth-full-of-bagel smile on her face.
Steve stares down at the cover, a band he doesn’t recognise on the front page. “…okay…” he looks back up at Robin, “you trying to broaden my musical horizons again?”
“I mean, always, Steve, of course,” she leans over the counter to grab a napkin and makes eyes at the record player. "But that’s not what this is. Page 35.”
She steps back and leans against the wall as she watches Steve flick through to the page.
He does so tentatively. He knows who this likely involves.
Page 35’s headline reads “The Woodstock Revival: the Confirmed ‘99 Line Up”. He pretends to read left to right, top to bottom, but in reality he is scanning, searching, for the name. And there it is. “Corroded Coffin”, second headliners on the East Stage right before none other than Metallica. Steve’s jaw drops, forgets to play it cool. He snatches a glance at Robin, who is smirking.
“Cool, yeah,” Steve clears his throat and takes a sip of his coffee, “good line up.” He practically hears her eyes roll in her head.
“I should hope you think it’s good. Because we’re going.”
Steve nearly chokes on his coffee.
“Robs, I know you really have helped me broaden my musical horizons, and yes it sounds cool, but really?”
“Yes, really, because…if you had actually read that full line up, instead of just…searching for a certain someone,” Steve goes to interrupt her but she stops him by jumping forward and slamming her hands on the side, “you will see someone else of interest.”
Steve pauses for a moment, and then reads again. Right there, underneath the AMP3 Emerging Artists Stage “Max’s Revenge”. If his jaw dropped before, it hit the floor this time. He looks up to Robin. Her eyes are wide, smiling and nodding excitedly.
“Holy fuuuuck! That’s fucking awesome! Mike Wheeler,” he shakes his head in disbelief, “I need to call him.”
“Yes you do, but wait, it gets better,” she hops onto the countertop and sneaks her hand around to grab a fresh pastry from behind the glass display.
This happens far too often for Steve to care.
“I’ve already spoken to Nancy, she’s doing a huge press piece for it, as it’s in New York State,” she takes a bite of croissant but continues to speak, “and Jonathan is an official photographer for the festival,” she dusts off the little pieces of pastry falling into her lap,“they both get a bunch of day passes to give away so…we’re in! As are El, Will, Lucas…aren’t our friends amazing…”
“This is great, this is kinda cute actually, the gang back together,” Steve says as he finishes his drink and takes it to the back to clean the mug.
Robin is still speaking, shouting over her shoulder, but he’s zoned out a little. His hands clutch the sides of the sink, tap running, and he drops his head slightly, inhaling through his nose and out through his mouth. He’s fine. He’s totally completely fine.
“Heeeello?” she shouts, “are you listening to me, Steve Harrington?”
He pulls himself together and walks back out front, “yeah, sorry, couldn’t hear you with the tap running.” She gives him an inquisitive look but doesn’t ask anymore.
“I was saying,” she spins around on the counter top and jumps behind, technically where only people who work here can go, “we can double check, but I think we get one day pass each, so the Saturday is when…Max’s Revenge are playing, but I thought it would be fun to go a little earlier, and leave a little later. Nancy has said we could lodge with her. We will have to share a sofa though, but” she ruffles his hair, “nothing we haven’t done before.” He scrunches his face into a smile.
“I’ll think about it,” he mumbles.
“What’s there to think about?” Robin asks, stood inches away from his face now, getting a little more serious.
“I dunno, Robin! I need to check those dates with Ryan.”
“I’ve already asked him.” She knew.
“Okay…well, you know, we need to check flights and all that too.”
She tilts her head, and says, “you really think Nancy hasn’t already organised our itinerary?”
Steve sighs. “Okay, okay.”
Hannah, one of the baristas, walks in right on cue. “Wowww it is COLD today,” she’s saying as she takes off her jacket. “Ooh it’s nice and toasty in here though, thank you Steve.” She’s walking to the back to wash her hands, her and Robin chat a little.
Steve takes this moment to walk out to the tables with a cloth and wipes down the already clean surfaces, but the repetitive movements are comforting to him. He wasn’t 100% sure why he was hesitant about going, or maybe he did know, and wasn’t letting himself think about it.
The day passes quickly. It’s freezing, but people still need to get out and work, so naturally The Shop is full all day.
It’s so cosy and warm inside that condensation appears on the windows. It’s only him and Hannah today, who he loves.
She sort of reminds him of Max, which he tries not to think about too much. In the summer, she skates to work. In the winter, she wears, what would now be considered, a vintage green Adidas jacket under an oversized mac. She even listens to Kate Bush; not something they had spoken about, but when someone new starts at The Shop they’re tasked with bringing in a few of their favourite vinyls. Hounds of Love was top of her pile.
She works a couple days a week, the rest of her time she’s studying counselling at DePaul University. Sometimes she works from The Shop in her spare time, which melts Steve’s heart a little bit.
His day ends at 2pm, when he needs to go home for a nap, a migraine starting in the back of his eyes. Nobody is home, so he opts for the sofa, he swaps his outfit for jogging bottoms and an oversized hoody, grabs a blanket and waits for the relief of sleep, not before a flash of Eddie Munson pixelates behind his eyelids.
memory three
Ever since Eddie touched Steve’s face, he feels electric. The burning sensation in his chest is still there, but it’s more of a fireball rather than a blazing hole.
Steve takes a detour on the way home from errands every single time, without even thinking. Eddie made Steve promise he cannot tell a soul, not even Hopper, that he knows he is in fact alive and well. Well is an overstatement, as unsurprisingly, Eddie is not doing so great. But, better than the last time he saw him alive, Steve thinks.
It’s been a whole two weeks since the collapse on the cabin stairs. Steve parks under dense trees and creeps his way to the cabin, making sure nobody else is around. It’s kind of exciting, sneaking around and keeping Eddie to himself. Part of him feels bad for sure, keeping this secret from Robin and Dustin especially, who is still racked with grief, but Eddie reassures Steve the importance of keeping this a secret. He taps three times on the door and steps inside.
Today on Steve’s arrival, Eddie is sitting on the floor in front of the couch, strumming lightly on an acoustic guitar.
“Where did you get this from?” Steve asks, worried at first Eddie tried to make it back to his trailer.
“Hopper got it for me,” Eddie looks up from under his bangs, which are growing long and framing his face. “I may have said if I don’t have something to amuse me soon, I will expose myself to Hawkins just for something fun to do.”
Steve laughs at this, “am I not amusing enough?”
Eddie ponders for a second, scrunching up his features. “You’re not my crown jester, Harrington. But if I said these visits weren’t the highlight of my life right now, I would definitely be lying.” Steve smiles at him and makes his way over, he considers replying “me too” but he doesn’t.
He sits opposite him on the floor cross-legged and empties a bag of goodies in between them.
Eddie gasps as he tears open a box of doughnuts. He holds one like it’s the holiest thing he’s ever seen, “bless you, Steve Harrington.” They spend the next half hour or so chatting about each member of the gang in detail. Eddie reacts to each story like he was really there.
There is something so magnetising about Eddie’s energy, Steve finds himself quite dumbstruck by him, has to frequently remind himself to respond.
“So, what about Nancy Wheeler?” Eddie asks, mouth full of candy and strumming absent-mindedly on his guitar.
“What about her?”
“You’re shitting me, right?” Eddie laughs. “Last time I saw you, you were running off to save the world and I’m pretty sure, about to confess your love to her.”
Steve feels strange for a moment, remembering the last time that Eddie saw Steve. This was not the last time Steve saw Eddie.
“ Er, well, I kinda did, man. I told her that she was part of this big dream I had, wanting a family, and everything,” he’s surprising himself how much he’s sharing.
“Six nuggets,” Eddie smiles but doesn’t look up at Steve, “I heard you, in the RV.”
“Well, that’s kind of embarrassing.”
“ No, man, it was nice. I didn’t hear it all, I tried not to.”
Steve nods, and adds, "things have changed, I guess.”
Eddie is nodding now too, looking up at Steve. They stare for a moment, until Steve clears his throat and goes to grab some more candy.
“I don’t think I could bring kids into this world, you know?” Steve finds himself saying.
Eddie considers this, “I feel you, I feel you. Plus, you have your own already, right?”
Steve laughs, “yes. And they’re a handful, Munson.”
It’s March, which can only mean one thing to Steve.
It’s Robin Buckley’s birthday.
Back in school, he was terrible at remembering birthdays, and nobody really remembered his either. But now, he cares about these people, and he cares a lot about Robin. She tells him every year not to make a fuss.
Last year, for her 30th, they had a lock-in at The Shop, and invited everybody she knew. She knew a lot of people. Steve spent the whole evening with Dustin and Mike, who were out-drinking each other and Steve thought it was the most hilarious and quite frankly ridiculous thing. This year, Rachel said they should do something more low-key, and offered to host a party at their apartment.
It’s a Saturday evening and Steve is standing in his hallway, tapping his foot impatiently, one hand on his hip, the other holding a gift wrapped box and with a Tupperware boxed cake balancing on top.
“Henderson! Hurry your ass UP!” he shouts. Dustin appears out of the living room, fixing a party hat to his head.
“I’m here, I’m here, and I’m ready…to party,” he presents himself comically in the doorframe. Steve rolls his eyes. This boy will never change.
Dustin’s flight arrived that morning from Seattle. He is here for a fleeting visit, specially for Robin’s birthday, which Steve thinks is incredibly sweet. Dustin always had a soft spot for Robin. Steve has never forgotten how much Dustin wanted Robin and Steve to be an item when they first met after his first summer camp. They were both clueless at that time that Robin could never be interested, in either of them, in any romantic capacity.
They walk the five blocks to Robin and Rachel’s apartment, the whole time Dustin babbling away about his job at Microsoft, life in Seattle, begging Steve to go and visit sometime soon.
It had been a while.
“You know, I run my own business here, man, I can’t just leave at any moment,” Steve says, half-jokingly, nudging him with his free arm.
“Mike has some gigs coming up. There’s a big one in Seattle soon, you should come for that.”
“Sure, dude. Send me the details, you know I will try,” Steve smiles.
Steve has a key to the girls’ apartment and lets himself in as instructed by Rachel, who has taken Robin out for dinner before the party. Robin definitely has an inkling something is going on, but they all go along with the “surprise”. Dustin immediately makes himself comfortable, popping beers in the fridge but then taking a slice of leftover pizza for himself.
Gradually, the guests arrive and this time Steve knows all of them.
A few of the guys from The Shop, Robin’s old band mate Kerry and her husband, Rachel’s sister. Nancy and Jonathan arrive together and Steve takes them both up into a big hug. He doesn’t realise how much he misses his old friends until he sees them again. They have their overnight bags with them, they’ve literally come straight from the airport. Catherine and Ryan arrive together and immediately make a beeline for Dustin, who they absolutely love.
Will, El, Lucas and Mike couldn’t make it this time, but that’s okay, Steve thinks. It can be quite overwhelming, everyone all being together at the same time.
Everyone brought their own drinks and nibbles and Steve intends to buy pizza for everyone later. Robin and Rachel’s apartment is incredibly cosy, and perfect for parties. An open plan kitchen opens up onto a living room with comfortable vintage green sofas, layered rugs and house plants everywhere. Steve feels very much at home here, and acts as host, filling drinks, choosing music, until the star arrives.
They all shout surprise as they enter the room, Steve standing proudly in the middle of the group. Robin makes eyes at him and he shrugs, laughing. After she greeted everyone, (she gave a particularly loud squeal when she saw Nancy), she skips towards Steve, who is now leaning against the countertop in the kitchen, arms crossed.
She positions herself directly next to him, crosses her arms, and they look out over the crowd in her living room. “Happy birthday, Robs,” Steve says looking down at her.
“Thank you, thank you very much. This was a lovely surprise.”
“You knew, didn’t you,” Steve whispers.
“Oh yeah, yeah I knew,” she laughs, looking up at him now.
The night is one of those perfect evenings. Everyone was in the best spirits, and they were drinking lots of spirits. Steve finds himself in Robin’s bedroom, wrapping paper still on her floor from a morning, he assumes, of opening presents in bed with Rachel. He walks over to the mantelpiece above the empty fireplace and reads the birthday cards presented there. His eyes catch one that has been hand drawn.
A cartoon-style robin is holding a cake on an out-stretched wing, blowing out candles, coloured in with pastels. A quote Bowie said on his 50th birthday party is scrawled on the front in a speech bubble “I don't know where I'm going from here, but I promise I won't bore you”. Steve laughs, picks up the card and reads.
To Robs,
Happy birthday, babe. You really are one of a kind.
Sorry I’m not there in person, but let’s celebrate in the summer. I miss you, really.
Eds
P.S send my love to SH.
Steve’s vision is a little blurry from the tequila and beer, so reads it again for good measure.
He can hear Dustin and the group singing along to ABBA in the living room, until a voice sounds behind him. He turns to see Robin and he quickly tries to put the card back on the mantelpiece, knocking it, and several others, over onto the floor.
She laughs. “Come on, you,” she grabs him and leads them out onto the makeshift dance floor, not before whispering “by the way, Eddie sends his love.”
memory four
Steve is extremely close to getting caught. He spends longer and longer at the cabin each time. Robin knows something is up. Any excuse to leave the house, he is out the door before anyone else could offer. This has been going on for over a month.
Steve isn’t sure what “this” is. But he fucking loves it. He’s addicted to it, actually. It’s like a holiday. It’s like soothing scars with cool ointment. It’s like a warm bath after a run in the rain.
They have a ritual now.
He gives an update on everyone while he cooks them both dinner, usually while Eddie hovers around him and picks at the ingredients, then they will light a fire and Eddie will take Steve to music school. He’ll play guitar, or play vinyls that he had asked Steve to pick up for him, or the few that he finds lying around the cabin. At first, music school consisted of 70s music that Hopper had in storage, Steve particularly enjoyed Eddie’s rendition of ‘You Don’t Mess Around With Jim’ by Jim Croce, dancing the twist and shaking his hips.
They’re sitting at the tiny table, knees touching.
Eddie chose Heart's 'Little Queen' record to play tonight. Eddie mops up spaghetti sauce with a slice of bread. “That was fucking good, Harrington,” Eddie says with his mouth full. Steve laughs, “it was just spaghetti, but sure.”
“Are you eating that?” Eddie points at the half full bowl.
“Er…probably not. Do you want it?”
Eddie nods and takes the bowl, but then follows Steve into the kitchen. Steve is doing the dishes when Eddie offers him a forkful of spaghetti. He takes it without really thinking, and Eddie jumps up onto the counter top. They carry on chatting, sharing the last of the spaghetti until it’s gone. It’s awfully domestic of them.
Eddie lands on the couch and grabs his guitar. Steve sits opposite him, like usual, and watches his hands finger the strings. Eddie catches him staring. “Do you want to try?” Eddie asks. That is not why Steve was staring, but he feels like he can’t say no.
“ I will literally be terrible at this,” he says as he goes to grab the guitar from him. “I don’t even know how to hold it.”
“ Here,” Eddie sits forward on the couch, and motions for Steve to sit on the floor in between his legs.
Steve obliges without thinking and Eddie lifts the guitar over Steve’s head and into his lap. “Okay, so,” he leans over and holds Steve's hand, placing his fingers in the right positions. Eddie is chatting away, but Steve can’t concentrate.
Eddie’s face is almost slotted into Steve’s neck, hovering over his shoulder.
He smells like faint cigarettes and sweet chewing gum. He smells like home.
“This is A. Give it a go,” he hears Eddie say. He strums at the guitar, and is shocked to hear it actually sounds good. He looks up at Eddie smiling. Eddie is already looking at him.
“Rockstar, Harrington,” he commends. “Okay, let’s try another…”
It’s a split second moment. A feeling of indulgence, curiosity and drowsiness overcomes him, for just a second. Steve’s head lolls backwards, and leans slightly to the side, resting lightly on Eddie’s knee as he shows him the next chord. Eddie is leaning forward now, his hair falling down and gently tickling Steve’s skin. Steve has shivers like a bolt of lightning has hit him from his head to his toes. They stay like this for a moment.
Steve can feel Eddie staring at his neck. That alone gives Steve goosebumps. Eddie removes his hand from the fretboard and hovers, fingers poised over the angry scar.
“Can I?” Eddie asks quietly.
“Yes,” Steve whispers.
Then, Eddie graces his fingertips on the scar, so lightly. Feather touches. Steve inhales sharply. He withdraws his hand.
“No, no, it’s nice.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Steve urges. Eddie touches again, lightly rubbing over the red scar that circles his neck. He moves along it lightly, stroking delicately. Steve hasn’t been touched this gently…ever before, he thinks.
His eyes roll into the back of his head as he lets his body relax, head leaning heavily to the side now, revealing more of the scar. Eddie gently moves Steve’s head to the other side as he traces the outline of the scar around the other side of his neck. Steve is in complete bliss. Once Eddie has traced the full scar, he stops. Steve thinks he never wants this to end. Like he can hear his thoughts, Eddie’s hand moves again.
This time, he walks his fingertips gently up towards his ear, and then pushes them through his hair, massaging gently into his scalp. Steve lets out a quiet moan, but then catches himself and opens his eyes. Eddie slowly releases his hand and Steve feels him lean back, creating some distance between them. He looks down at his hands, realises he’s still holding onto the guitar.
“So, er,” Steve forms his fingers on the fretboard, “so that’s a C.”
He gives a little strum.
“Yeah, Steve. That’s a C.”
It’s May. Steve is standing at the bar at Moe’s Mo’ Rockin’ Cafe in Seattle. He flew in alone and is staying on Dustin’s sofa. Not so comfy, but it will do for a couple of nights. The boys all seemed very keen for Steve to come and see this show, as usual Steve questioned the logistics, but then realised fuck it, you know?
He orders two beers, one for Dustin who is backstage to see Mike before they start. They had just watched the support band, who Steve can’t say didn’t hurt his ears, but he nodded along and smiled when Dustin said how great they were.
“Make that three, Harrington,” a deep voice declares behind him. Steve jumps out of his skin, his facial expression pure shock, which he can see in the mirrored wall behind the bar. He looks up, and sees Eddie Munson behind him smiling wildly.
“They didn’t tell you I was coming, did they?” Eddie’s voice should not sound so bashful, “classic boys.”
“No, they did not,” Steve turns to face him and passes him a beer. “It’s er…it’s good to see you, man.”
He flings an arm around him, and realises it actually does feel so good to see him.
“The feeling is mutual,” Eddie grins as he sips his beer.
“So, when did you get here?” Steve asks.
Eddie looks at him like, really?, but he goes along with the small talk. “This morning. Been running some errands, doing some bits for the band while I’m here in the Emerald City. How about you?” Their faces are close as they shout into each other’s ears over the music.
“Er, yesterday, I’m crashing at Dustin’s.”
“You know, I have a place here, right? You could have stayed in a nice comfortable bed rather than Dustin’s lumpy sofa.”
“It is so lumpy, right? I don’t want to sound ungrateful but wow,” Steve skirts over the potential invitation to stay at Eddie’s. Was it an invitation? He sips more beer.
“You remember the last time we saw each other?” Eddie questions, leaning now with an elbow on the bar facing Steve.
“I can’t actually,” Steve says. He can. Does Eddie not remember? Eddie nods, takes another sip.
“I miss you, you know?”
Fuck.
Steve was not expecting literally any of this.
“Yeah, man, I er…”
Eddie interrupts, “none of the bullshit. I fucking miss you, okay?” Eddie’s eyes are bearing into him now.
“I miss you too,” Steve says, then downs the rest of the bottle.
Dustin bounds over and practically screams as he jumps into Eddie’s arms. He wraps his legs around him and Eddie spins, laughing. “Aaaah, Henderson, my little hobbit, how are you doing?!” Steve knows they speak all the time, but he can’t remember the last time Dustin said they spent time together.
They shout and laugh and roughhouse each other as Steve watches and laughs. Dustin stands between them on his tip toes, one of his arms around each of them. “My mom and dad, back together, I am just…so happy!”
Dragula by Rob Zombie starts to play loudly over the speakers, and Dustin jumps up and down. Turns out, it’s Mike’s band’s entrance song. The crowd are going absolutely wild. Steve laughs with pure joy seeing Mike bob his head and clap his hands as the band picks up their instruments.
Mike grabs the mic, guitar swung around his back, “how’re we doing, Seattle?” The crowd cheer. “Good. This night is gunna be fucking crazy. There’s some people here who are so important to me. They literally saved my fucking life.”
The noise from the crowd is insane. Probably not realising Mike literally does mean literally. Steve’s eyes fill and start to sting. Eddie squeezes Steve’s arm; he immediately feels grateful for his presence.
Steve watches in awe, Max’s Revenge sound good. And they look good too, they look like they could be famous. Steve thinks they probably will be soon. Steve sings along to the songs he knows, and still nods his head along to those he doesn’t. Eddie and Dustin are jumping, head banging, dancing together the whole time.
“This last one is a cover. Superhero by none other than Corroded Coffin,” everyone is screaming.
Mike pushes his sweaty hair out of his face and looks wildly at the back of the room. Steve looks sideways to Eddie, who is shaking his head and laughing maniacally. “How about it, Eds?” Steve suddenly sees almost every head in the crowd in front of them turn, facing them.
Everyone is chanting, screaming as they realise Eddie from Corroded Coffin was behind them the whole time.
Steve feels like he might implode as he sees Eddie push through the crowd to get up onto the stage.
He’s never seen Eddie live. Only on TV and whenever Robin made him listen to their music. His heart is racing. He looks at Dustin, who is already staring up at him, laughing. “Oh Steve,” he shouts. “You are in for the treat of your life!” Steve has a light bulb moment, Dustin can see it on his face.
“This is why you wanted me here so bad.”
“Well…duh!” Dustin laughs, putting an arm around Steve.
Watching Eddie and Mike on stage together is like having an out of body experience for Steve. Dustin and Steve jump up and down and shout and scream as the live music pumps through the crowd. Eddie is playing Mike’s guitar, owning the stage as he dances around, head banging and pointing to people in the crowd, singing directly at them. Steve has been to many gigs, but never one that made him feel like this. “We’re Max’s Revenge. Thank you for having us. See you at Woodstock!’ Mike screams then drops the mic and runs off stage, his arm around Eddie.
Dustin looks up at Steve, with that look on his face. “What, Henderson?” Steve laughs as he leans back against the bar.
“You know what, Steve!”
“I’m having a great time,” Steve shrugs.
“Because Eddie is here.”
“No, I would be enjoying myself regardless…”
“You two are the bane of my life, man,” Henderson shakes his head and goes to order a drink.
The crowd starts to empty, but Dustin and Steve hang around at the back waiting for the others to shower and change backstage. The pair argue over which song was the best, who bought the most rounds, who dances the weirdest.
Steve is mid argument, flailing his arms when he sees Eddie walking out from backstage with two girls, laughing.
Mike and the rest of the band are behind them. Steve swallows, potentially his pride, and makes his way towards them, Dustin following behind. Mike is tall and slim, long floppy black hair almost covering his eyes. He pulls Steve into a hug. “That was fucking awesome, man,” Steve says.
“Thank you, thank you for coming, honestly, it means a lot,” Mike says.
He reintroduces him to the band, a couple of new members have joined since Steve last saw them.
They catch up for a little while, standing at the bar, the bartenders pouring free drinks for all of them.
Eddie is surrounded by a small crowd, an excitable buzz around him like a force field. They haven’t spoken in half an hour, but as it turns out, they don’t need words to communicate. Steve catches Eddie glancing across the bar every now and then, locking eyes and smiling. Steve is definitely tipsy now, as is everyone around him.
Max’s Revenge’s manager, Su, one of the girls Eddie was talking to like an old friend, has booked a table at The Pink Door for a late dinner and drinks. The place is aptly clad in total pink, incredibly camp and there are…aerial performance dancers and girls dressed in burlesque costumes.
Eddie looks like a kid at a funfair when they arrive. Max’s Revenge, an up and coming grunge band, and heavy metal rockstar Eddie M from Corroded Coffin, on first glance look completely out of place. But at the same time, Eddie especially, looks absolutely at home.
They sit in a booth in the corner and order antipasti and many bottles of wine. Everyone is having the time of their life, all passing plates around to each other, pouring wine and laughing. Steve gets the impression that Eddie is used to this kind of lavish lifestyle, as he chats to the waiter and asks about the best bubbles.
Steve is sitting opposite Eddie. They still haven’t properly spoken since Eddie came off stage. Steve wants to talk to him.
He has this urge to reach across the table and touch him.
His stomach is in knots, head dizzy. Just from the wine, he thinks. But it worsens. He doesn’t take his eyes off Eddie as his head pounds, nausea setting in.
“You okay, man?” Dustin whispers in his ear.
“Yeah, I’m cool, just...” he points to his head.
“Do you want to get some air?” Dustin asks. Steve nods and steps up from the table. Steve thinks he sees Eddie watch them leave.
They stand outside as Steve leans over his knees, Dustin rubbing his back. “You sure you’re okay?” Dustin questions.
Steve is breathing deep. Inhale. Exhale. “It’s my head man, I’m probably due some pills. I shouldn’t be drinking, really…” he mumbles, now clutching his head in his hands.
I’m a fucking embarrassment, he thinks.
His hearing is muffled, but can hear Dustin now speaking to someone and leaves. He hears the familiar, deep voice, turns his head and sees Eddie’s dark figure between his fingers.
Eddie crouches down in front of him. “Hey man, how’s that head doing?” He passes him a glass of water. Steve gratefully accepts, downs the drink and sighs. Steve thinks he sees Eddie watching the bob in this throat. “I didn’t know it was this bad still,” Eddie says.
“Why would you?” Steve responds quickly.
“What?”
“Why would you know it was this bad still?” Steve squints now, head banging with every word he says.
“I er…I guess I wouldn’t,” Eddie clears his throat and stands up. “Are you pissed off with me, Harrington?” he declares quite loudly now.
Steve shakes his head, but quickly stops when he realises how much it hurts to move it.
“You sure? Because you’ve said about three sentences to me all night.”
“Let’s not make this about you, Eddie,” Steve is saying things he’s not even thinking now.
Eddie lets out a short burst of laughter, “Steve, I’m not going to take offence to that because I think you’re drunk, and I know you’re hurting.” He crouches down again, and holds firmly onto Steve’s wrists, his head back in his hands again. “I want you to stop hiding.” Steve looks up in response.
He drinks in Eddie’s face.
Big brown eyes, bangs short again.
His hair is tied up, a few strands hanging down, framing his face. So beautiful, Steve thinks, as he blinks away the blurriness. He tries to stand, but Eddie catches him, the head rush overwhelming. Eddie is holding him now, his arms straight out in front of him, hands clutching onto Steve’s biceps. Steve rests back against the wall, Eddie steps forward.
“I’m not hiding. I just want…”
Eddie steps again, closer now.
“What do you want?” Eddie says under his breath. Steve’s eyes are stinging, hot from tears gathering.
“I want to go back.”
Eddie swallows, nods, and turns to go back inside the restaurant.
No, not back there, Steve thinks. But his words aren’t catching up. Eddie opens the door and looks back at Steve, “c’mon,” his voice is soft. Steve stands for a moment, staring, then follows him back inside.
memory five
Steve knows he is running out of time. He can feel it, this desperate, frantic feeling. He is sure Hopper knows. He’s stopped questioning him so much and changes the subject when others do. Another month has gone by so Robin is relentless now. Last week she cornered Steve. “Is it drugs?” she was whispering but Steve felt like she was scolding him.
“No, Robin, it is not drugs. Can you please just trust me?”
“Fine, fine! As long as you are okay?” she held onto him.
“I’m okay,” he squeezed her arms, and she pulled him into a hug, which seemed to reassure her. Even though she stopped bugging him, he started to sneak out at night to avoid the questions.
It’s midnight when Steve arrives at the cabin. He knocks three times, and enters. It’s dark, only a table lamp lit on the side next to the couch. Home, Steve thinks. On the couch, he sees pillows and the duvet bundled up.
As he approaches, he realises Eddie is under them.
Long limbs are hanging over the couch, one leg over the duvet. He’s just in his boxer shorts, his chest moving up and down softly as he sleeps. His head is sinking into the pillow, hair tied up, so only his bangs are hanging down.
Steve stands, and stares.
He wants to touch him. Oh my god, how much he wants to touch him. He has never seen him with his hair tied up before, it makes him want to push his bangs out of his face. Should I? Steve thinks.
Eddie starts to stir, sort of whimpering, his breaths picking up speed. He’s having a nightmare, he thinks. Steve kneels down in front of him, rests a hand on his bare arm.
Eddie starts to open his eyes, “Steve?” he says softly.
“You’re here.”
“It’s okay, I’m here,” he reassures him.
Eddie sits up on the sofa, hair messy, chest bare. It’s the first time Steve properly sees Eddie’s scars, he tries not to stare, instead opting for Eddie’s face, which is all scrunched up from sleep, eyes glazed but half-shut. Steve swallows down whatever it is he wants to say.
He looks cute. So fucking cute.
Eddie reaches for Steve’s face; he shuffles forward on his knees. Eddie scoots forward on the couch, eyes closed, not saying a word, with Steve now in between his legs.
A moment passes where Steve thinks Eddie is going to lay back down to sleep. But he doesn’t.
“ You’re here,” he repeats. He takes Steve’s hand, and places it over his heart, a gnarly scar etched where it should be smooth. Steve’s own heart is beating out of his chest. “I’m here,” he says again, whispering so quietly he’s not sure if Eddie heard him. If he moves forward an inch or two, their faces would be touching.
Eddie grabs Steve’s arms, still half asleep, and pulls him onto the sofa. Steve obliges, he lays on his back while Eddie lays sideways, his head laying on Steve’s clothed chest. Steve in this moment decides to let go of any hesitation, anything stopping him from doing what he truly wants.
He looks down at Eddie, pulls the duvet over them, and runs a hand through his hair, pushing the bangs from his face. He wants to explode, to scream. The last time he did that, Eddie was laying on the ground. His eyes start to fill, until the steady rhythm of Eddie’s breathing calms him, and he drifts into a sleep.
Steve wakes as usual with a pounding headache. He realises instantly he is not in his usual surroundings, his blurry vision coming to. They’ve shifted slightly in the night, facing each other, arms and legs tangled.
Steve goes rigid. Is this okay? He wonders.
It feels incredibly intimate, they had never spent the night together or been this close for this long.
“Mornin’, Harrington,” Eddie says with a croaky voice, eyes still closed. His morning voice hums like birdsong in Steve’s ears. Even though he is the most comfortable he has ever been, Steve clears his throat and moves slightly so he’s sitting up.
“What time is it?” Eddie asks. Steve is still fully clothed, checks his watch. 8.07am. Fuck. The kids will 100% be awake by now. And Hopper.
“What’s wrong?” Eddie props himself up on his elbow, sensing Steve’s anxiety.
“I shouldn’t have stayed,” Steve says as he peels himself slowly off the couch.
Eddie looks a little puzzled but then says, “aah, don’t worry, Steve, this isn’t the first time I’ve woken up next to someone and they’re full of regret.”
No, it’s not that, he thinks. “The kids will be awake. Hopper will be awake, they will know I’m gone,” he responds as he starts to put on his shoes quickly, nearly falling over in the process. Eddie sits up, the duvet covering his lap but everything else on show.
“Well, let’s think of an excuse, say you went out early this morning for a run or something…”
“In my car?”
“All I’m saying is, if they’re already awake, why do you need to leave now? It will be more obvious if you turn up now.”
Steve shakes his head, and goes to open the door.
“Will I see you later?” Eddie asks.
“I’ll try,” Steve says.
Steve drives home instantly full of regret. He didn’t even say bye, what the fuck was he doing? Without thinking or even checking his mirrors, he drags the car into a U-turn and speeds back. He stumbles back into the cabin, without knocking three times for the first time.
Eddie is still sitting on the couch, head in his hands. He stands as soon as he sees Steve burst through the door. Steve says nothing, marches towards him. He wants to kiss him. But more than that, he just wants to be held. He slams into Eddie’s bare chest, wrapping his arms around him. Eddie stands still for a second, then responds, pulling him into a hug, one hand grasped in his hair.
“I’m sorry,” Steve says.
“ Stop,” Eddie responds, squeezing him tighter. “Everything is cool.”
Cool, Steve thinks. Nothing is cool. This is the furthest from cool Steve has ever felt.
Steve squints as a bright morning light sparkles through thin linen curtains. He’s somewhere he has never been before. Somewhere…fancy. Instead of the initial panic he should be feeling, he quickly realises he’s in Eddie’s Seattle penthouse. He smells him on the sheets, he nods to himself, I shouldn’t know that, he thinks.
His head is pounding, his throat dry and scratchy, a mixture of his usual morning feelings alongside being wine drunk last night.
The room is bright and airy, with high ceilings and black industrial style windows. Six electric guitars are mounted to an exposed brick wall, a big L-shaped sofa in front, adorned with throws and cushions, some are even scattered on the floor on top of a very expensive looking herati patterned rug.
Steve sits up slightly in the comfy bed and looks around.
He’s topless, but wearing a pair of what looks like Eddie’s pj bottoms. How did I get here, he thinks, trying to recall the rest of the evening. It’s not the first time he’s taken his time to regain his memories after a few drinks these days. He spots a bottle of water and two aspirins on the bedside table, alongside a small bowl of French Toast Crunch cereal, a little jar of soy milk beside it. Of course Eddie chooses soy milk. Cute, Steve thinks to himself as he necks down the pills.
There’s three knocks at the door. Steve sits up straighter and tries to push his hair flat, as Eddie enters.
“Mornin’, Harrington,” he smiles and walks over the parquet floor in fluffy slippers, holding out a glass of OJ.
“More liquids,” is all Steve can say.
“Yes, you need to keep your brain hydrated,” Eddie says seriously as he puts the orange juice on the side. “Nobody likes a dry brain. How are you?”
Steve thinks for a minute. He feels nervous. He feels embarrassed too, although he isn’t 100% sure what about. “I’m alright,” he lies. Eddie gives him a little look, like really?, and then lays across the end of the bed, falling dramatically. His head is propped up on one hand, and he’s staring into Steve.
“What?” Steve says, feeling a flush in his cheeks.
“Nothing, nothing,” he says, sighing. “You sure you’re alright?”
“Okay…I can’t actually remember getting here last night,” Steve says, putting his head in his hands.
“That’s…concerning, do you always forget things?”
“No, no, just after I’ve had a couple drinks, sometimes I lose a few memories.”
“Ah, you weren’t that drunk, that’s all. There’s nothing to worry about, Harrington. We went back inside the restaurant, I got you some more water, I excused us from the group, I brought you home in a cab, that’s all,” Eddie smiles, starts playing with the frayed edge of one of the many blankets.
“The kids all stayed at Dustin’s,” he says pointedly. So we’re home alone, Steve thinks, like a 17-year-old. Eddie is nodding, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, like he’s reading Steve’s mind.
“So, what do you want to do today?” he asks, “if anything,” he adds when he sees Steve rub his head and reach for the water.
“Sorry, Eddie, I won’t be much fun today, I can feel a migraine coming on,” Steve has this feeling of being a disappointment again, shame in his chronic pain forcing him to do nothing again.
But Steve had nothing to worry about, because he should have known that Eddie can make doing nothing fun. Eddie leads him out to the open plan living space and Steve nearly guffaws out loud. He has only seen things like this on MTV.
The city skyline is spread across the floor to ceiling windows like a painting, Steve wishes at this moment he remembers last night. Eddie shuts the blinds down on the view and sets up a “medical station”, as he calls it, in front of the huge sofa that wraps around in a U shape. Steve wonders if Eddie ever filled this sofa with people, the huge parties he could throw with the friends that Steve would never know.
“Sorry,” he says, signalling to the random mixture of snacks on the coffee table, “I don’t stay here often so the kitchen cupboards are not happy with me.”
Steve stands, still shirtless, staring down at the offering. If he wasn’t trying his hardest to hold it together, he would be crying right now.
“So, what film are we watching?” he’s saying as he’s taking down a piece of art off the white wall then setting up a projector to cast upon it.
“Er, nothing too loud,” Steve says as he sinks into the cushions.
“Not Trainspotting then?” Eddie laughs.
“I actually like that movie,” Steve says sleepily.
“Okay, Trainspotting it is.”
“It has a good soundtrack…” Steve mumbles.
“It does have a good soundtrack, Harrington,” he says as he jumps down next to Steve on the sofa, “Rockstar, Harrington,” he murmurs.
“I didn’t take you for a brit pop kind of guy,” Steve teases.
“Have you forgotten everything from music school? I might be a metalhead, Steve, but I like a lot more than that.”
Eddie starts to tell Steve stories about meeting The Verve at the MTV Music Awards last year, how Corroded Coffin had been nominated for “Best Rock Video”, up against Metallica, AeroSmith and Foo Fighters, he even did shots with Madonna. Steve is listening intently, laughing and egging Eddie on. He catches himself glancing down at his lips, but diverts before Eddie notices. He hopes.
Trainspotting isn’t a romantic film. It’s probably the most unromantic film ever. But Steve isn’t watching, and he knows Eddie never intended for him to. It’s a simple distraction in the background, while Eddie nurses Steve’s bad head. Just over an hour passes before Steve is inevitably curled into Eddie like a kitten, Eddie’s arm around his shoulders, his feet up on the couch.
Steve’s eyes are closed, but Born Slippy is playing out of the speakers, meaning the film is coming to an end. Eddie’s arm is wrapped tightly around Steve now, his thumb stroking his arm, but hasn’t said anything in a while. Steve imagines he is attentively watching the ending, which is known to be one of the best possibly of all time.
“Steve,” Eddie whispers. Steve thinks he replies, not sure if he’s dreaming. His head is still pounding. He’s far too comfy to move.
There’s silence, and then, “this morning, when I walked in my room, and saw you tucked in my bed, shirtless, bed hair,” he whispers slowly into Steve’s hair, “it just…it was fucking bliss.”
Steve doesn’t respond, he’s half asleep, head tucked into the cruck of Eddie’s neck, the thrumming in his head soothed by Eddie’s hand now massaging his scalp.
“I want to see it again,” he mumbles, low tone in his voice. Steve tries to smile, but he’s drifting, his muscles jerk involuntarily as he falls deeper into a sleep in Eddie’s arms.
memory six
“You wanna play some guitar?” Eddie asks.
In Steve’s mind, playing guitar is code for sitting in front of Eddie between his legs, letting him stroke his neck and play with his hair.
So, yes, of course, he wants to play some guitar.
And like usual, that’s what it turns into. After playing a couple of simple songs, Steve leans slightly backwards and looks sideways, inviting Eddie to touch him. Eddie lifts his hand and starts to tickle his neck, making his way all the way around the demobat scar.
Once he completes the full circle, he rests both his hands on his shoulders over his t-shirt, and lightly massages, focusing on tiny little knots. Steve groans, getting more confident with how much he can release each time. He hears Eddie clear his throat, and then he tugs lightly at the t-shirt. This is new. Steve is breathing hard. Inhale. Exhale. He rests the guitar on his lap, leans forward slightly and lets Eddie pull his shirt off.
He launches it across the room, with quite the opposite power he displays when touching Steve. Fuck, Steve thinks. Or he thinks he does. He didn’t say it out loud, did he?
Eddie goes back to Steve’s shoulders, tracing outlines and using his thumbs to circle on pressure points, the rest of his fingers skirting at his collar bones. Steve can’t control himself now, he’s breathing thick and fast, unaware of what other noises he’s making. It’s sad, really, how he has never been touched like this before.
Without moving his hands, Eddie leans forward, his lips close to where his hands are touching. Steve feels his breath on his skin, as he ever-so-lightly brushes his lips across his shoulders.
Then he feels Eddie’s fingers lightly touching his chin, and tips his face up towards him. They’re both breathing heavily, staring at each other’s lips. Eddie’s tongue pokes out the corner, then skirts over his teeth as he draws them closer.
He touches Steve’s lips with the thumb that’s holding his chin, parting them slightly.
Steve’s stomach is doing back flips, his skin covered in goosebumps. With a sudden courageous feeling, Steve lifts his head in hope that Eddie will know it’s okay to kiss him. Eddie moves his hand to Steve’s jaw, fingertips at the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Their lips are touching. Little breathes into each other. Then, they collide.
Steve lets out a groan as he feels Eddie tug at his hair, holding them together with force, yet the kiss is soft and slow.
Their tongues push against each other as they grasp desperately. Steve is on his knees now, turning around to face him while never letting their lips part.
Eddie hooks his ankles around Steve, both hands wrapped in his hair, bringing him close. Steve is leading the kiss now, swapping tongues for little pecks and nibbles on his lips. Eddie moans and bites back, then licks over where he bit hoping to ease any pain. But there is no pain. Just pure lust.
Suddenly, a bizarre thought enters Steve’s head.
The last time his lips were on Eddie’s, they were dead. Lifeless, pale lips.
Steve pulls back, breathing hard, and he stares at Eddie.
“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, his hands still in his hair.
Steve is thinking a million things now. What is happening? Is this even real?
“You’re real,” Steve says, breathing heavily through his nose, then shakes his head thinking how stupid it sounds out loud. Eddie doesn’t laugh, doesn’t smirk, just seriously nods.
“I’m real, Harrington.”
Steve shakes his head again.
“I am really fucking real,” Eddie says again, softer, leaning in towards Steve’s face.
Steve leans back, steps up. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to Steve. He is nobody’s first choice, so why does Eddie make him feel that way? He realises, the reason he wants to keep Eddie a secret so bad, is because he’s worried that as soon as Eddie is in the real world, he’ll forget about him, and leave him behind. Because surely, this is only happening because it’s the only choice Eddie has.
Eddie is watching Steve intently, eyebrows furrowed, an expression on his face like he is trying to get inside his brain.
“Please, Steve, sit down,” he moves across on the couch, “I think you’re having a panic attack.”
“No, I’m just…”
“Panicking. Steve, you’re panicking, please sit down, I’ll get you some water.”
Steve sits on the couch and leans back, his head on the back cushion. Eddie stands behind him and passes him a glass of water. He sips at it as he tries to steady his breathing, his head on fire.
“Let’s just…chill, okay?”
Eddie goes to collect Steve’s t-shirt and passes it to him. Steve looks at the material in his hand, what a stupid idiot I am, he thinks. He can’t bring himself to look up.
Eddie’s lighting the fire now. Steve lays down on his side on the couch and pulls a blanket over himself, right up over his head. He keeps his eyes open, watching Eddie’s figure move from underneath the fabric.
He sees him turn to look at him, “can I join you?” he finally asks.
“Yes,” Steve says quietly. Eddie lifts the blanket from over his head, and gestures for him to prop himself up. He sits on the far side, grabs a cushion and puts it on his lap. Steve takes this as an invitation to rest his head there. He does, hoping Eddie won’t throw him off in case he misread the signals. Eddie pulls the blanket over them, so they’re in their own makeshift tent.
“Can I touch you?” Eddie asks.
“Yes,” Steve replies. Steve doesn’t care what kind of touch Eddie means, he’s just happy for the offer. Eddie strokes Steve’s face lightly, and runs a hand through his hair. After a few minutes, he asks, “do you feel better now?”
Steve nods in response. He really did feel better. He’s still not 100% sure if he is dreaming or not, but he feels better all the same. Steadier.