Chapter Text
It was good.
It was so fucking good.
Yeah, maybe their relationship was a secret. Maybe Uncle Wayne was the only one who knew they were together. Maybe they snuck into closets or empty rooms when they spent evenings with friends, snuck kisses in dark corners or when everyone's attention was focused elsewhere but they were still them. They were Steve and Eddie, Eddie and Steve, together and hopelessly in love. They were together and they had each other. Had each other in every beautifully intimate way possible.
They sang, they kissed, they cuddled, they made love.
They made breakfast, held hands under the table, washed each other's hair and whispered sweet nothings to one another when no one was around.
They were so fucking in love.
Until they weren't
Until the day Eddie woke up and remembered nothing of the last year of his life
Until the day Eddie woke up and remembered nothing of Steve. His Steve. The Steve that held his hand and cried his eyes out waiting for the moment that Eddie would wake up. His Steve that made him laugh and sing, made him feel like the luckiest, most loved man alive. His Steve that he spent evenings and weekends with, cuddled into god awful plaid sheets with whispers of the words 'I love you' falling from their lips.
Until the day Eddie woke up from his coma and had no idea why Steve "The King" "The Hair" Harrington was there with him and why the absolute fuck he kissed him and called him Eds on his return to the land of the living.
Their love was so strong, so powerful, so goddamn beautiful. But was it strong enough?
Steve's heart was so full. Full with everything Eddie. Full with eyes the colour of the earth, full with curls that perfectly wrapped around his fingers, full with a touch that made his soul melt and porcelain skin that blushed the prettiest shade of pink.
But
Steve's heart that was once so full shattered when the words, "Why the fuck are you here?" rasped from Eddie's dry throat.
It was like a bullet to the heart. Like a fucking Demogorgan reached in pulled the beating organ out of his chest and crushed it in its cold undead hands. Steve was suddenly so empty. So scared and so goddamn alone. Again.
"Son," Wayne had breathed calmly behind him, warning but also sadness in his tone, watching the one man his nephew loved so much crumble in front of him, reaching desperately for the hand Eddie wasn't willing to give.
Already verging on hysterics, Steve tried, he tried to take Eddie's hand, to call his name, but nothing less than a bark of an order came from the man he loved, "Get the fuck out of here Harrington!"
He fell back into Wayne in shock and the man continued to calmly speak, "They told us he could have memory loss kid. I'm sorry, but I think it's best that'cha leave. I'll call ya tonight when I know more, 'kay?"
Steve couldn't speak, silent tears running down his face, he gathered his things. Or thing. Everything he'd brought was Eddie's, or theirs. He had his jacket, the letterman jacket he didn't quite care for anymore but Eddie loved, or more loved to tease him in. He thought it'd lighten the mood when Eddie woke up, he thought it'd spark some fun loving banter between them. Everything else he left behind, the books, the blankets, the change of clothes ready for Eddie for when he woke up, his rings, his necklace, his leather bracelet and a journal Steve had written in on the days it felt especially hard to watch the love of his life breath through a machine and remain so terrifyingly still.
On his way out the door, Wayne had grabbed his shoulder and pulled him in for a hug, ever so quietly mumbling, "A love like yous had just doesn't die kid, it's still in there somewhere. It's still in him."
The words shattered Steve's heart even further. Though he wished they were true, there was no way of actually knowing. It was luck in the first place to find someone as incredible as Eddie to love him. He didn't know if he could get that lucky again.
Steve squeezed a little tighter and turned to leave, standing in the doorway, willing himself the confidence to not turn around
"Wayne," he whispered, not moving his attention from the hall he was now facing, the old man turned, tears in his eyes, looking back at Steve, "everything should be there for today," Steve struggled to speak, tears in his eyes and pain in his throat as he turned and pointed at the pile of belongings next to Eddie's bed, "just maybe… fuck, " he huffed quietly, "I don't think he should read the journal, that might freak him out, maybe hide it for now."
Wayne nodded once in response, moving to squeeze Steve's arm as he quietly spoke, "I love ya son."
And if that didn't break Steve's heart even more.
—
The days had dragged into each other.
Wayne would call each evening when he got home from visiting Eddie; updating Steve on his condition. His mental health never being the topic of improvement unfortunately, but at least Steve knew he was doing better otherwise. His days were filled with worry and dread that he hadn't been able to visit since the morning Eddie woke up. Maybe he'd poke his head in when visiting Max, but it wasn't like he could go visit the guy as Dustin's friend alongside the curly haired pipsqueak because, like mentioned before, Eddie didn't remember the last year of his life.
That included the kids too.
Dustin was just as heartbroken as Steve, but it's not like Steve could show it, not in the way he felt really, he could mourn the loss as a friend but that's it. He and Eddie hadn't told anyone about their relationship, save Wayne, and he wasn't going to make it his business outing Eddie.
Mornings and nights Steve liked to think were the hardest, waking up and falling asleep alone, the absence of Eddie felt the richest then. But that's not to say every other waking minute was less difficult. Fuck, everything was difficult.
Brushing his teeth in the morning because he can picture Eddie behind him and the phantom feeling of a tattooed arm around his waist.
Doing laundry because he can still hear the whispers of Eddie's voice singing some made up song to him
Grocery shopping because he can hear Eddie's laugh and picture him on the end of the cart, weighing it down but with the biggest smile on his face as he throws some type of junk food in with their haul
Working at Family Video because there's no call coming through over his lunch break, no "Well hello there Stevie" or "Hey Baby" or a sing-songed "I love you Steve Harrington," on the other end of the line when he does pick up a call.
There's no Eddie bursting through his front door to tackle him into the couch and pepper him with kisses when he's just gotten home from work.
There's no Eddie pulling him into his arms after a bout of night terrors, pressing kisses to his head with whispered words of praise
There's no Eddie. Not for him anyways.
Some days Steve would join Wayne for supper or breakfast, depending on the man's work schedule.
At least he had Wayne.
At least Wayne cared and loved him.
At least Wayne still had Eddie.
Their time spent together would sometimes be in silence, occasionally accompanied by the local news or hum of the radio. Sometimes Wayne would pull Steve through the door and drag him out to go fishing or to a ball game in the city. Sometimes Steve was too late or too early to meet Wayne, so on those days he'd let himself in and find comfort in Eddie's bed with a book in hand, tears often times blurring the words past the point of recognition, before soon the exhaustion of grief would take over and lull Steve to sleep.
Many times did Wayne come home to find Steve curled up in Eddie's bed, tears staining the pillow in his tight grasp, book still held in hand as he quietly snored against the cotton fabric. It was common enough that Wayne didn't bat an eye, simply covering Steve with a blanket, setting an alarm for the morning in case the kid had to work the next day and shutting off the lights after gently ruffling his hair.
It was hard and lonely and some days debilitating.
Steve sometimes thought if Eddie was dead it'd be easier. He'd have at least loved Steve and would have at least loved him until the end. But everytime that thought occurs he hates himself a little more.
He didn't know what to do, it's not like he could barge into the hospital room and tell Eddie everything. How they fell in love, how the world nearly ended, how Steve carried him through the literal gates of hell and held his hand until the second he woke up.
He couldn't. Could he?
No
But that's not to say Steve didn't try to come up with some type of a plan.