Chapter Text
December 18th, 1987
Eddie felt the restraints digging into his wrists. Something, admittedly, he’d enjoyed in a different setting. He growled in frustration as the hopelessness of the situation set in. It was supposed to be a good night! Worse than that, it had been, but life had a funny way of fucking things up for them. He groaned as a tear slipped down his cheek, a tear he couldn’t even wipe away.
“Let me go!” He shouted again, voice hoarse from overuse. He prayed to a power he didn’t even know existed that his Uncle would hurry the hell up and sign off on his freedom. Until then, he was stuck and unable to help Steve.
***
Steve blinked at the piercing bright light, his body throbbing alongside his head. He could barely see out of his right eye and he had the sinking suspicion that it was swollen shut. He tasted blood from the cut on his lip and could feel it drying against a definitely broken nose. A low chuckle came from the left, and upon raising his head, he saw Hopper slouched on a metal chair.
“Shit, kid.” His eyes dark, a humorless smirk gracing his lips. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”
***
December 5, 1987
Upon reflection, the instinct of fight or flight is fairly simple. Two choices, two possible paths lying before you leading to different outcomes. What isn’t simple, however, is knowing which path to choose in each circumstance. Looking in from the outside, it’s a game of chess. Figure out your move based on what the enemy in front of you is doing. The stakes, however, are much greater. If you make the wrong move in chess, you’ve lost, but if you make the wrong choice in life, you die.
Eddie Munson was a simple man, so the choice had always been the same. First sight of trouble: run, run fast, or at least faster than the person behind you. Some call it cowardice, others call it intelligence, really it depends upon the situation. Wayne simply called it Eddie.
He remembered waking up to the sound of frenzied knocking on his door, the daylight just fading as it gave way to night, his job requiring him to work nights and sleep during the afternoon. He opened the door with a huff, expecting the nosy woman from three trailers over to be making a complaint about his lawn care again. Instead he found his nephew. His eyes were wide and wild, looking like an owl with his hair growing back from his buzz cut in short tufts. His knees had dirt on them, cheeks were cut from branches and twigs, bruises forming on his elbow and shin.
“Hey bud, what’s got you knocking around these parts at this hour?” Wayne looked around, his sister had passed the year before, bless her soul, so it’d be quite a shock to see her with him, but equally he was much too young to be alone.
“Uncle Wayne!” He heaved a breath, chest rising and falling from running, evidently through the woods. “Dad’s gone! He came home from working at the bar in a new car and grabbed all his stuff, put it in a bag, and drove away! I heard sirens so I hid, but they wouldn’t go away so I snuck out the back and ran here.”
“Eds, take a breather and come on inside. We don’t wanna let mosquitos in, leaving the door hanging open like this, hmm?” Wayne corralled the child, one he’d helped raise since his sister was young. She’d gotten pregnant by accident, life never being easy, and with someone who never treated her the way she deserved to be treated. Wayne had threatened the man’s life on multiple occasions if he ever dared lay a finger on Eddie or his sister. The abuse never turned physical, he’d learn later, but he was manipulative and explosively angry at all times, his sister walking on eggshells until she was equally fragile.
That was when the dealing started.
Eddie’s father made a sizable income selling drugs in seedy motels and in his own living room. He was overly gluttonous, however, and liked to dip into his own product far too often, resulting in threats and beatings from his supplier. Wayne found out that he had been held at gunpoint while Eddie was playing with blocks in the next room over. The worst, however, was that the man took his sister from him.
His sister had a way of leaving for a few weeks, maybe a month, but always returning to him. When she’d leave, she would always go to Wayne. He watched as the gaps grew shorter and his sister grew skinnier. Her once beautiful dark hair, now limp and dull. She’d fallen into her boyfriend’s trap and found herself hooked on chemical happiness. It shattered Wayne’s soul to see the bright young woman deteriorate into a stranger. The more dependent she became. the more miserable she appeared. It was a vicious cycle and one day it became too much. Her unhappiness consumed her and Wayne became an only child, working doubles to afford a decent urn.
Eddie was always harder on himself than anyone else. Well, with the exception of his old man, but he wasn't in the picture anymore. He’d been caught in that fancy new car that he’d stolen after he wrapped it around another car. He’d been in a rush to get away from a debt and ended up crashing into a station wagon, killing the other driver and surviving with nothing more than a few bruises and a scowl as he was loaded into a cruiser. His official charge was vehicular manslaughter and grand theft auto. He had a sentence of over 35 years, all stacked together, but it ended up being a life sentence when his heart gave out in 1981.
Eddie had learned young that life sometimes handed out shitty cards and it was all in how you played with them. That was why he felt such shame in running when Chrissy died that fateful night. His mother and father had both gone down the same path, ultimately to their own destruction, while Wayne stayed and fought for his nephew. Fight or flight. As the bats flew toward him he thought about Dustin and saw himself in the overgrown weeds of his Uncle’s lawn. Young, dorky, afraid, and knew that it was time to stand his ground and fight, even if it killed him.
Steve on the other hand, he always chose to fight. He’d stand in front of danger every time if it meant keeping someone else safe. That’s what made their situation so fucking difficult. How could he protect anyone from this? This wasn’t his usual rodeo, it wasn’t an ugly monster that he could throw a molotov cocktail at and call it a day, no this monster was far more dangerous. It was the monster that couldn’t be defeated because it wasn’t something physical in front of him.
So what did he do when he heard his name, saw his picture, and knew the world was going to see him, judge him, and hate him for nothing more than loving someone? He saw only one path and took off running down it.
***
December 5, 1987
It had happened so quickly that Hopper barely had time to react. He saw the picture pop up the screen, heard the phone drop with a clatter, and watched as Steve crumbled. His breathing shifted to gasps as his hands trembled, tangled in his own hair, as he tried to ground himself with a tug. Eddie’s eyes were wide, his face pale, as he gently rubbed circles into Steve’s back.
“This can’t be happening.” Steve sobbed. “We’ve been so fucking careful, it’s not fair!”
“I know, baby.” Jim was shocked at the steely calm that Eddie exuded.
“Why can’t they just leave us alone?” Steve stood suddenly, his legs a bit wobbly as his voice cracked with emotion. “I just want to be left alone for once in my goddamn life, is it too much to ask for?” The cheery music returned and left Eddie scrambling for the remote to turn the tv off, but Steve reached it before he could.
“Fucking Carlotta of all people.” He shook his head. “It could’ve been anyone in this goddamn town, but no, it had to be her.”
“As you can see the most eligible bachelor in Hawkins might not be single anymore. Seemingly trading in polos for the well worn jacket of a very close friend, dare I say, lover? The man pictured with our favorite Harrington is none other than Eddie Munson, a local delinquent that you may remember from my story on the tragic tale of Chrissy Cunningham.” She gestured to Eddie in the photo before continuing on.
“Perhaps Steven is simply trying to take his revenge out on his mother for years of embarrassing anecdotes in her featured bestsellers, but this might be a step too far. When asked about his son, Mr. Harrington told my reporters that he didn’t have a son, not anymore. Dr. Harrington, his mother, declined to comment but I’m certain that like us, she would find this behavior unnatural, disgusting, and unacceptable. More on this story a bit later, for now, in recent elections we’ve found that populari-” She switched topics so quickly it nearly gave Hopper whiplash. The air was tense and thick as the screen suddenly faded to black with a hiss.
Disgusting. Unacceptable . Unnatural.
“Stevie?” Eddie whispered as the man he loved put the remote down, frame trembling. “Are you still with me right now?”
“I’m sorry…” Steve choked, eyes glued just beyond Eddie, attention somewhere far different. “I can’t- I can’t be here… I have to go, I have to just get out of here.”
“Steve, where exactly do you plan on going?” Hopper approached him like a wild animal, deservedly so as Steve pressed his frame to the door as he stepped closer. “This is the safest place you can be right now.”
“Babe, let’s just take a breath an-”
“I just need some space.” Steve flung open the door with wild eyes and took off into the woods.
***
December 5, 1987
If there was anything that Robin could remember from her 9th grade American History class, it was that people loved a good witch hunt. It always struck her as odd how excited her classmates got as they spoke about the drownings, the fires, and the hangings. They spoke with an energy that proved that history indeed repeated itself. Instead of throwing stones, they threw insults. Call it a lifestyle hazard, but she learned how to get through life with a mask held firmly in place.
The mask cracked in a dirty public bathroom stall in 1985.
Steve was the first person she ever told, despite the nonchalant air she tried to carry herself with making it seem more casual. He’d been so great, so kind, and it had always been something she felt like she could never repay. What do you say to someone who tells you that the very thing that makes everyone hate you is something that makes you special?
Of course, when he told her that he was developing feelings for Eddie everything changed. Her problem became their problem. They were a unified front of hidden identities, a secret taboo society. Crazy, in her mind, that after everything they had done for Hawkins the simplicity of loving someone else was enough to turn the public against them.
So she learned to swallow her feelings. She learned to pretend to be so preoccupied by schoolwork or band that she didn’t have time for dating, let alone anyone interested in her. She was fine with that, honestly, not only because it kept her safe but also because the world of dating was terrifying, especially when you factor in the possibility of a hate crime. It made the list with the flesh monster and Russians, followed by Vecna nearing the very top of her fear list.
At the tippy top of that list? Nancy Fucking Wheeler. She was a true force to reckoned with, especially when her mind was set, but Robin saw that stubbornness and pride as something beautiful and interesting. She also saw Nancy as something a little more challenging: her best friend’s ex. This was a conversation they’d touched on very, very gently. He assured her that he was okay with it, he had moved on, but something about it felt wrong in her gut.
The thing about her that no one really anticipated was that despite her outward awkward clumsiness, she was fiercely protective of her group. Of course she took care of the kids, that was a given, but the only person that could have her outside in the snowy forest in December, in her winter jacket, hat, gloves, pajamas and slippers, was Steven Michael Harrington.
“Steve!” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “I am going to love smother you, so help me God!” Her breath came out in white puffs. She had gotten the call from Eddie and rushed over to the house, meeting Wayne in the driveway. He had a scowl etched into his face and hands tightly stuffed into his jacket pockets. Needless to say, he seemed pretty pissed. It was decided that Hopper and Joyce would go right, Wayne and Eddie would go left, and Robin would go straight, a first for her.
***
Wayne sighed as they stomped through the brush and snow, contemplating his words carefully. “Ed, I’m real sorry th-”
“Do you think he went towards the lake?” Eddie cut him off. “Because it’s too damn cold out here for him to have walked that far.” The rain from earlier in the day had cooled and frozen to the branches, weighing them down in thick sheets of ice.
“Well I don’t know, but I know he’s upset, understandably, and he probably felt crowded in there.” Wayne took a deep breath. “Eddie, listen, you seem to be a little one track right now. I get it, I do but-”
“I’m fine!” Eddie huffed. “It’s not something you can protect me from Wayne, we learned that a long time ago. This isn’t some new thing, people don’t like me and I’m fine with it, so stop worrying. Hell, if they wanna call me a freak and leave him alone, even better.” With that, he stomped ahead, ignoring the deep sigh of concern from his Uncle.
***
“I am going to personally mail everyone I know that photo I have of you in the Scoops uniform if you ever scare me like that again!” Robin’s chest heaved as she came to the base of Skull Rock. “Don’t think I won’t mention the fact that you’re wearing my cherry chapstick. Your lips aren’t naturally that red, Dingus.”
Steve gave a small chuckle as he sat up, facing her. “I won’t even care if you spread it around, Rob. Apparently that’s kinda my thing now.”
“Steve.” She sighed as she climbed the rock, accepting the arm he extended to her. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s a first.” He smirked as she pressed herself against him. They sat melded together, the silence palpable. He didn’t feel safe, per say, not after the night he was having, but no one held him together quite like Robin. If he was a bottle of soda, shaken by life, pressure building to an explosion, she was the lid that helped him hold it all in.
“I’m so sorry, Steve. What she did was so fucked up and I’m so fucking sorry that happened.” She sobbed suddenly and it felt like permission to let the fizz overflow.
“What do I do now?” He sniffled, tears threatening to spill over his lashes.
“I don’t… I don’t know.” She laid her head in the crook of his neck. “Whatever you want I suppose. Fuck what they think, you’re Steve Harrington.”
“Haven’t you heard?” He hissed. “It’s just Steve now. Apparently my sexuality is ‘ unnatural’ and ‘disgusting ’ so I’m no longer a part of the Brady Bunch.”
“God that’s horrible.” She sniffled. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.” He nodded numbly, staring ahead at the frozen branches. “I know you hate it, but would it help to just talk about how you’re feeling? It’s okay if you don’t want to, but it might make things a little more manageable.” He nodded again, brow creasing slightly. He opened his mouth before closing it again, shaking his head slightly as he fiddled with a pebble beside him.
“I’m scared.” He whispered, finally meeting her gaze. “I’m scared that the kids are going to be harassed by association. I’m scared that people will be after Eddie again, or that Wayne will be fired because the guys at the plant aren't accepting. I'm scared that you’re never going to feel like you can come out safely because this is the only experience we have in that department... I’m just fucking petrified and I don't know how to make it go away.”
“That’s okay you know.” She ran a hand through his bangs. “This isn’t something you did wrong, don’t let them convince you of that. You can be upset, be selfish, you can be devastated that you didn’t get to cherish this relationship the way you wanted to, the way everyone else gets to. But…” Her hand stilled as she pondered her words for a moment. “Please don’t make this about everyone else. You have such a savior complex, I’m a little scared you’re going to run yourself into the ground trying to make everyone comfortable. Just let yourself feel and if bad feelings pop up, all I ask is that you don’t pull away. Let us help for a change.”
“I know, I just…” He huffed a humorless laugh. “I wish things were different.”
“I know. Me too.” She looked up into the night sky. “It’ll be okay, I think… eventually…” She reached for his hand, gasping when she felt the icy chill. “Jesus, we need to head back, you’re freezing.”
“I’m not that cold.” Steve sighed as he pulled his hand away. His body just felt numb and tingly, like his limbs had all fallen asleep.
“Steve, you're shaking.” She bit at her lip. “Your fingers are white and your lips are getting a little too bluish for my liking, so what we’re going to do is go back and talk about this as a family, ok?” With that she pulled his hand up until he was standing with a grunt.
“Do we have to do the ‘talk about it’ thing?” He whined, as he trekked down the rockface. It was hard to climb down when Vecna had vines covering it, let alone ice. He shoved his hands into his pockets as they started back on the path.
“Well I haven’t really had a chance to check in with Eddie and see how he’s feeling about all of this.” She kept her gaze ahead as they moved in the direction of the house. “But no. We don’t.”
“That simple? Just no? Because I asked not to?” He paused his strides. “Why?”
“It’s your story to tell Steve.” Robin turned to him. “Well both of you, but this is about more than just you and Eddie. You haven’t had a choice in the matter and I didn’t understand that before, you know? I didn’t quite grasp the gravity of the situation and now I do. I heard what Carlotta said, I read the words of your mother, and neither of them gave you an option. I’m not going to do that, WE aren’t going to do that. This is your story. Tell it or scrap it and create a new one.”
“Wow… yeah… that’s um…” Steve stuttered before stopping dead in his tracks and pulling her into a tight hug. “Thank you for… just thank you.”
“Anytime.” She whispered back, squeezing her eyes shut. As they separated, she pulled off a glove and handed it to him. Cold handed and warm hearted, they trudged up the path toward the
***
“They’re walking up the path now.” Joyce sighed in relief to the rest of the group. Robin had radioed in to let them know that she found him and they were on the way back. “She got him.”
“Can I get you anything Wayne?” Jim gestured a thumb to the kitchen. “Coffee? Pop? Whiskey?”
“He doesn’t drink.” Eddie grumbled as he stared ahead at the door. Jim had never seen the man so still, his arms crossed tightly and scowl set deep. “Nothing stronger than milk.”
“Alcohol wise he means.” Wayne patted his nephew's shoulder, ignoring how tightly wound Eddie was. “I certainly won’t say no to a coffee if you’re offering.” Jim nodded, boots thudding heavily as he crossed into the kitchen, preparing the beverage. “Eddie, you can’t keep ign-”
“They should be in here by now.” He bounced his knee. “I’m going out there.” Before the words were fully processed, the door opened, finally revealing the platonic soulmates. Eddie rushed toward him, rubbing his arms in an attempt to give away some warmth.
“Eddie I…” Steve took a deep breath.
“It’s okay, I don’t care.” Eddie put his hand up to stop him. “You don’t have to explain, I get it. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“I shouldn’t have run off like that, that was stupid.” Steve’s voice cracked.
“You must be freezing, come sit down.” Eddie corralled him to the worn sofa, snatching a blanket off the back and covering him with it. Jim appeared beside him with a cup of coffee for both Wayne and Steve.
“So…” Steve sipped at the beverage, feeling instantly sympathetic for Joyce as he nearly choked on the overwhelmingly burnt flavor. “Catch tonight’s game?” He mused with a half smirk to Wayne, who couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped.
“You boys are in quite a pickle.” Wayne rubbed at his scalp, a nervous habit that Steve had seen Eddie perform on many occasions, as the amused smile slipped away. “Sorry to see that.”
“Look, I know what people are going to be saying.” Steve clutched the mug a little tighter. “But this isn’t something we can just run from, clearly.” He gestured to the door with wide eyes. “Robin knocked some sense into me and, at the end of the day we’re still the same people, right? I have a goddamn baseball bat in the backseat of my car.”
“It’s not that simple.” Joyce leaned against the counter. “People are mean, honey. I’m not trying to scare you but…”
“I get that, but I’m mean too. I took out a Russian soldier with a phone, I can take some insults.” Steve turned towards Eddie. “Right? These people are nothing compared to bats.”
“Yeah…” Eddie smiled wanly, ignoring the pinched glare from Robin. “We’ll manage.”
“Exactly.” Steve sighed before grabbing the remote off the table. “I faced a demogorgon head on, right over there,” He pointed to a spot in the hall. “I can watch a washed up gossip spread lies.” With that he turned the TV back on, the screen slowly coming to life before them.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, son?” Wayne furrowed his brow.
“Definitely.” He stood before going to the living room wall where the phone had been reconnected after being pulled off so many times. “Robin kind of inspired me, gave me an idea.” He trailed off as he dialed in the number that was flashing on the screen.
“Caller number 4, goes by the alias of a concerned community member.” Carlotta smiled as the crackling voice filled the studio set around her. She always did a segment at the end of the show where she’d have people call in with questions or concerns about topics that she discussed on the show. “Can you hear us honey?”
“Yes ma’am.” The voice of an older sounding woman resounded from the speakers. “I’m just worried that those boys are going to spread it around, you know what I mean? They both are constantly at the arcade with those children, you’d think they’re trying to turn them or something.” She wheezed.
Joyce’s glare at the box couldn’t rival Robin’s.
“So I’m just a little nervous, as a long standing member of this town, as to what other trouble these heathens will bring with them. It always starts with this, then it’s drugs and murder and violence. You can’t win with their kind.” She prattled on. “I’m a good Christian so I’ll pray for their souls, but these boys shouldn’t be allowed to just wander around our little haven, touching everything and changing it to their twisted ways.”
“I understand.” Carlotta’s face was of mock empathy, a cold and emotionless woman such as herself couldn’t possibly feel that spectrum of emotion without faking it. “I heard that we have another caller, how exciting. Who is this I’m speaking with?”
“Steve. Steve Harrington.” Eddie whipped his head around to see his boyfriend leaned casually against the wall. “Tell Alice I say hi on the other line. Did she really think that I wouldn’t recognize that voice after growing up with her pinching my cheeks?” He gave a dark chuckle. “Aren’t you sick of me? Sick of my pathetic life and my story? All I ever wanted was to be left alone and because of people like you, I’ll never get that, we’ll never get that.”
Jim smirked as Carlotta’s practiced smile slipped.
“So eager to tell a story for a quick buck, hmm Carlotta?” Steve continued. “Although I have to give you props for tracking down my mom AND my dad, that’s something I haven’t been able to do in years.”
“Is there something you wanted, Steve?” The woman huffed impatiently.
“Actually there is.” Steve made eye contact with Robin, who nodded at him. “I want the chance to tell everyone my story.”
***
When I was a little girl, my mother bought me a dollhouse. It was hand painted and carved from wood. It was the most beautiful little thing and I loved it terribly. I would spend hours putting things in their perfect places. The father by the fireplace with his newspaper, the mother in the kitchen cooking dinner, the baby in the crib, sleeping peacefully. I would tell the dolls my secrets and they always kept them for me. They were my only real friends in my home.
One day I left for school and when I returned there was no little dollhouse. In fact, there was nothing in the room at all. The furnace had malfunctioned and the room below my room caught fire. By the time the fire department got there, everything in my room was destroyed. Insurance paid well, of course, but it felt like a sign. I never longed to play with dolls again, or any toy for that matter, I wanted something deeper. I wasn’t to be kept in a kitchen or doing laundry, I would have something more substantial. My father took me under his wing and taught me everything I needed to know about life and the idea of a dollhouse was nothing more than a distant memory.
Then I met Michael.
The pieces fit together so well, he was rich and handsome, I was smart and beautiful. We had the makings of a happy couple from the moment we laid eyes on each other. We married in the spring of the next year and I made him promise me that we would never end up like the charred remains of my dollhouse.
Steven was never my idea. It sounds harsh, I know, but it went against everything I wanted to be. Michael’s sister found out that she was unable to have children and I’m the only child in my family. My mother and his mother doted and swooned when we announced that we were expecting our first, our ONLY, child. I loved the attention at first. Everyone told me how beautiful he was and how lucky I was. Michael kissed my forehead and smiled because he was proud and everything was good. I was so happy for months, but eventually the bubble always pops. I turned from Dr. Harrington to Mommy and Michael started going away more often as the cries grew louder. I never had that choice, I had to be there with this baby that had ruined my marriage and my career. I was trapped in a dollhouse with no doors. I spent years wishing that the fire would finally come and burn it all away, ashes to ashes. I couldn’t run away, I couldn’t exist without someone tacking this baby on as well. I’m a horrible mother because I work. I’m a bad mother if I don’t breastfeed. I’m so awful because I love having a nanny. For years I had no voice, but now, my dear readers, I have decided to shout a little louder. If you have ever felt trapped by motherhood, you are not alone. This book is step one to happiness. Welcome, get comfy, and be prepared to break free from your dollhouse once and for all.
-Janet Harrington (An excerpt from The Art of Un-mothering Your Child)