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Steve was an idiot.
It was one of the only things that the party collectively agreed on. They loved him, don’t get them wrong, and they would never want him to leave them, or to even know that they thought it, but that was the way things were. He hadn’t done too well in school, unlike everyone else. Which was how the party would explain away all the weird things about him that they ascertained were simply him being an idiot. Zoning off constantly, confusion, taking increasingly long allotments of time to answer simple questions, mixing his words up. It was just Steve being Steve. A little dumb, slow on the uptake, but kind.
That is, until Eddie.
°•. ✿ .•°
“Your class is essentially your profession, and it'll outline the kind of role you’ll have within the party as a result.” Dustin said from the floor. He had a DND manual laying flat on the carpet. Steve was sitting criss cross beside him, staring almost too intently at the colorful pages, squinting.
“And your race will determine how your character looks, as well as giving you exclusive skills and features.”
The entire party was over for a sleepover. Robin, Argyle, and Jonathan were out by the pool smoking (if they had given Max some weed to help with joint pain, no one had to know) Nancy was teaching Eleven how to braid hair. Steve had given her one of his mothers wigs as a text subject. They have taken over half the livingroom floor.
Lucas was recovering from a hangover (which Steve was going to give him so much shit for once he had drank all his water and took some painkillers) and Will was stacking old slices of bread on Lucas’s face, the tower was 13 stacks long so far. Mike was sitting next to Will, watching him like a hawk. Erica was keeping a running tally of how many breads Will could stack before they fell. She was practicing rock balancing on lucas’s shin with the designer rocks from next door (don’t ask Steve why they were called designer rocks, he hadn’t asked, he just knows that’s what they’re called because once about a year ago he had cut across their rock-filled lawn and had gotten a mouthful for stepping on their designer rocks. Sue him. He helped Erica steal them a few hours ago.) she had 14 stacked, which was extremely impressive to everyone who saw it.
And Steve was trying to learn how to play DND. Dustin didn’t know that Steve actually had purchased his own dnd manual a few months back, but he had such a hard time reading (the letters moved!) that he had finally agreed to let Dustin teach him. Eddie was on the couch watching. He had been doing that a lot lately, they all had noticed. Watching Steve. The party had a betting pool on when Eddie was going to ask Steve out, since Eddie seemed to be the only one in the party who didn’t know Steve liked men.
“These features can include ability score increases, age and life expectancy changes, size differences, increased speeds, and unique languages.” Dustin moved his hands to show Steve a chart.
Steve swallowed hard once, twice, his left hand clenched and unclenched a few times. He blinked about seven times before speaking (Erica liked counting, she knew the exact average amount of times everyone in the party blinked in an hour. Steve had much more then the rest of them.)
“… What?”
“Oh my God, Steve. It’s not that hard. What do you not get?” Dustin rolled his eyes. He was starting to think this was a useless endeavor. Eddie quickly got up and grabbed a bottle from the table.
Steve squinted at him again, looked down to the paper, eyebrows drawn down.
“I- uh, en-“ Steve stumbled over his words. This could go on for minutes, in Dustin’s experience.
“That’s enough for now,” Eddie interrupted, setting the water into Steve’s lap. He quickly grabs at it with his right hand, gripping it hard enough that it almost broke.
“This would be so much easier if you just paid attention.” Dustin said, exasperated.
It took Steve a few seconds to roll his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” He said eventually, sloppily knocking Dustin’s hat off his head. That sets Dustin off on a long rant about the history of hats and why they should be respected
From above, Eddie looked like he was in pain. Dustin chose not to question why.
°•. ✿ .•°
Steve had made a pretty large chicken casserole for dinner, along with a cheesy salad looking thing and Bomboloni for desert.
“What soda do you want, Steve?” Robin asked, bending down to open the bottom of the fridge. It was absolutely humongous, with thirty different sections and labels on said sections. They all assumed that Steve’s parents had done that. He didn’t correct them. He just wanted them to always be able to find exactly what they were looking for if they were hungry.
Steve opened his mouth, then closed it again. Eddie turned quickly from his place to Steve’s left.
“Ash…” Steve closed his mouth again. “Ad-“
Dustin snorted so hard that he started choking. Will silently clapped his back. Robin grinned from her place near the fridge, shaking her head. He did this frequently.
After about a minute of confused mumbling, Steve finally gets his words across.
“A Slice Strawberry Soda.”
Robin gently poked fun at him as she handed it to him. The rest of the party proceeded to start in their little let’s joke about Steve debacle, which Steve always took like a champ.
And then of course, Eddie had to be the one to set them straight.
“Steve,” Eddie said gently. “Do you know you’ve been having seizures?”
°•. ✿ .•°
It was called a Focal seizure. Most common with those who have had frequent head injuries. Symptoms were: motor spasms (like aggressive swallowing, blinking, and hand clenching) Staring blankly into space, confusion, sight issues, and speech problems.
They didn’t look like the seizures you were used to seeing. A lot of the time, people wouldn’t even know that they were having them. You can be fully conscious when they happen, mistake them for a panic attack or a simple migraine.
Eddie only caught it because his mother had had them before she died.
At first, the party thinks he’s being delusional. But then Dustin decides the party is going to skip school and check the library.
They all come to the collective decision that Steve definitely was having focal seizures. Steve wasn't an idiot. He was having seizures the entire time.
They don’t apologize for making fun of him, but they do feel bad about it. They do stop making fun of him for being stupid, though. At least until he tells them they’re allowed to smile at him when he’s having one. Steve claims it makes him feel weird when they all suddenly start acting like he’s going to die.
“Ha- wait, tsh-“ Steve paused, his hand spasming around the dice he had been about to throw
It took them a while, but teaching Steve DND was much easier when they just spent more time letting him figure it out without pressuring him. This was his first session. It was proving to be a success, since Eddie (a very brutal DM) had such a soft spot for Steve that he was letting a lot more things slide when he was there.
“You're having a seizure, Steve.” Eddie told him, bringing his hands down to his notes. Will had just rolled a nat-20 and saved half the party from getting eaten by a dragon.
“Whe-“ Steve squinted his eyes.
“A seizure, Steve. Can you say seizure?” Eddie took the sharp dice out of Steve’s hand so he wouldn’t hurt himself (they were made by Argyle, who didn’t how to properly use a sander. Erica, Lucas, and Mike all already had splinters from holding it) Dustin and the rest started talking about what to do next to get past a river full of lava.
"Hnnn”
“Try again.” Sometimes Steve wouldn’t catch the seizure, and think he was saying something that made sense when it didn’t. It explained a lot. So sometimes when someone else caught it, they’d let him know so he knew why no one knew what he was saying.
“Shhh,”
Eddie smiled gently at him. He looked like one of those cartoon characters that have hearts shooting out of their eyes (Erica words) “You got it.”
“Sheizure,” Steve mumbled, “seizure.”
“There we go, you’re back.”
The game continued.