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Christmas doesn’t come and go easy for someone like Eddie. Dad in prison, Mom dead, Wayne working, and Eddie poor as shit in perpetuity. None of that makes for a happy holiday full of joy and laughter and family and presents.
It hasn’t been easy a single year as far as Eddie can remember. The time of year brings on the doom and gloom of too much darkness, the frigid air and swirling snowfalls. It brings back the memories of his mom getting sick and never getting better.
This year is worse, though.
Maybe it’s because of the Upside Down. Maybe it’s because Jeff and Grant left for college and Gareth is too busy with school to hang out with him, so the loneliness has been building up since September. Maybe it’s just because it’s been getting worse every year and he’s on a perpetual downward spiral into a pit he’ll never crawl out of.
It’s Christmas Eve 1986 and Eddie’s making bad decision after bad decision. He’s drunk, and he’s behind the wheel trying to find an open gas station, and he’s trying real hard not to crash his van even if he’s planned on ending it fifty times in the past week. He doesn’t wanna go out like this, not by crashing his car into another or a house, or anything like that, not in a way that’ll hurt someone else. Maybe he’ll ditch his van and go freeze to death in the woods, or maybe he’ll make it to the quarry on foot and just…
But he wants a pack of smokes first. Maybe another bottle of booze if he can swing it, but he doesn’t think he has enough money. He forgot his wallet at home, probably should’ve turned back the second he noticed he didn’t have it, but he always tosses his change into his cup holder or on the floor of his van, or in the glove compartment, so he knows he has enough for the smokes at least. He should’ve turned back anyway, though. He shouldn’t be driving like this, barely able to see the lines on the road.
He should’ve called Wayne. Wayne would’ve come home immediately if he knew how bad it was tonight. He wouldn’t have let Eddie get in the driver’s seat, especially not just because he needs a pack of cigarettes. He wouldn’t let Eddie contemplate all the different ways he could kill himself tonight.
He should’ve called anyone, really. Not that anyone would have answered this late on Christmas Eve, and even if they did, most of his friends are still too young to drive.
Somehow, someway, he gets to a gas station without crashing or getting pulled over. He digs change out of the crevices on the floor and in the seat, and scoops the handful out of his cup holder. He shoves it all into his pocket without counting it. He stumbles out of his van, bracing himself on the door so he doesn’t slip in the icing parking spot. Jesus, he drank too much. Even for just walking. It’s a wonder he got here.
He probably shouldn’t drive back home, that’s for sure.
“Eddie?”
Eddie turns and sees him.
Steve Harrington.
Hero of the year and all that, dragging Eddie’s limp body out of the Upside Down and breathing air back into his lungs. He got put in the newspaper after the earthquake. Some acknowledgement of his good deeds and heroism in the aftermath. Pictures of him carrying boxes and making sandwiches and rescuing a dog from the quarry or some shit. (Maybe he’ll help them get my body out of there, too, he thinks in the back of his head.)
Meanwhile Eddie just barely got his name cleared. Steve had a two page goddamn spread, and down in the little corner of it, a ‘Eddie Munson has been cleared of all suspicion after corroborating witness statements confirm his whereabouts on the night of March 26 and the subsequent week.’
It pissed Eddie off, that’s all.
Perfect Steve Harrington with his beautiful smile and his nice car and his tight jeans and—
“Hey, I thought that was you,” Steve says when Eddie doesn’t say anything.
“Yeah, hey,” Eddie says awkwardly.
Christ, he has no idea how to act around Steve. They didn’t become friends after everything, despite Eddie kind of wanting to. Eddie was broken and stuck in a hospital bed for weeks, and Steve had to find a new job after abandoning his shifts at Family Video too often, and suddenly seven months went by without either of them talking to each other.
Not that Eddie dislikes him or anything, quite the opposite actually. He’s a little bitter, sure. A little pissed off, okay, but none of that is Steve’s fault. It’s not Steve’s fault the town loves him and hates Eddie.
Hell, Eddie loves Steve and hates Eddie. He doesn’t think that Eddie guy is all he’s cracked up to be, or hell, since he’s not cracked up to be anything good, then maybe he is. He’d laugh at the line of thinking if he weren’t so fucking empty tonight.
Honestly, he’s been doing Steve a favor by staying away.
No reason to take Steve down into that pit along with him.
Eddie finally slams his car door shut and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. He has a couple crumpled dollar bills, only enough for a pack of cigarettes and a candy bar, or something small.
Steve’s coming over to him now, walking across the parking lot with a little skip in his step to reach Eddie quicker. Eddie starts toward the door of the gas station, not wanting to have a conversation of any sort with Steve while he’s in this state.
“Fuck,” Eddie mutters under his breath when he trips over the curb.
Steve catches up to him, a hand gripping Eddie’s bicep to steady him.
“Easy there, it’s icy,” Steve teases, before letting go.
Eddie nods, and offers a smile. “Thanks. Yeah. Icy.”
“You having a good Christmas?”
“Yeah, it’s good. Just, you know. Need a pack of smokes.”
Eddie opens the door and holds it open for Steve, and he’s trying to pretend his head isn’t spinning right now, or like he isn’t starting to get queasy right now, or like he’s not trying with all his might to not fall back against the door.
Try as he might, Steve is too smart for a guy like Eddie to outsmart him.
“Hey, wait, man,” Steve says. “Are you drunk?”
“Nah, no,” Eddie lies. “No, I’m good.”
Steve doesn’t believe him. “And you drove here?”
Eddie shrugs. He tries to leave Steve at the door, but he’s followed into the candy aisle.
“Let me drive you home,” Steve says.
“No, seriously, I’m good,” Eddie says.
He just needs to buy his shit, get in his van and drive out of the parking lot. He just needs to make it down the road to the trailer park, and that’s it, that’s fine. He’ll be fine.
He won’t put Steve out like this on Christmas Eve. He probably has his family to get back to. Maybe a girlfriend he’s spending the holiday with. Eddie can’t ruin his holiday for him.
“Give me your keys,” Steve says.
Eddie ignores him, grabbing a Reese’s peanut butter cup because it’s the first thing he sees, and he moves around Steve to go to the counter.
“Eddie, c’mon, I’ll drive you home.”
“Nah, man, don’t worry about little old me,” Eddie insists. He drops his candy on the counter and starts counting his quarters first. To the cashier, he says, “Pack of Camels,” and to Steve, he says, “Get back home to your family, or whatever. It’s Christmas.”
“Not that my family’s even in town right now, but even if they were, I’d rather get you safe than go back to them,” Steve says. He reaches over Eddie’s shoulder to set a can of Coke down. Says to the cashier, “Pack of Marlboro reds, please.”
“I’m not paying for your shit, man, I had to scrape this change out of my cup holder. I’ve got, like, five bucks to my name.”
“Relax, I’ve got it.”
He throws enough cash down for both of them, and then picks up Eddie’s coins off the counter.
“Keep these if you’re not gonna let me drive you home,” Steve says. “Call someone.”
“Nobody to call.”
“Where’s your uncle?”
The cashier hands Steve his change and gives Eddie the bag of their stuff. They’ll have to stand in the parking lot and divy it up, just another thing to extend this conversation that he doesn’t want to be having in the first place.
“Working.”
“On Christmas Eve?”
“Not everyone’s got the means to pass up time and a half, dude. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“You don’t have anyone else?”
“Nah,” Eddie says, shaking his head. He reaches into the bag as soon as they’re outside and digs out his cigarettes and candy. He shoves the bag toward Steve’s chest.
“I’m not letting you drive home, Eddie. Get in my car.”
“Bossy, big boy,” Eddie teases, but his heart isn’t in it. “I really haven’t had that much. I got here fine, didn’t I?”
He leans against the wall, just needing a second. His hands are freezing as he tries to light his cigarette, and he shoves them back into his pockets as soon as it’s lit. Steve turns and leans against the wall, too. The two of them stand side by side with lit cigarettes between their lips, and a silence that feels too heavy to bear.
“I’m serious, man. I’m not gonna — I’m not gonna let you kill yourself, or anyone else,” Steve says softly. “I worked too hard keeping you alive and out of prison just for you to—”
“Fuck off, Steve.”
“I’m serious, Eddie. Don’t make me lose you.”
“Lose me?” Eddie scoffs. He laughs dryly, and shakes his head. He drops his unfinished cigarette to the ground and grinds it under his toe. “You don’t fucking know me, man. You haven’t talked to me, like, ever. You can’t just, like…”
Eddie shrugs, not even sure where to take that sentence. Can’t just show up after months and act like I’m yours to lose probably wouldn’t come out right. It sounds like something from one of the soaps Wayne pretends he doesn't watch.
“You’re right. You know what? You’re right,” Steve says. “But I wish I could, you know? Know you, I mean. I wish I did talk to you! And now you’re here at a gas station on Christmas Eve, and you’re drunk, and I know that can’t mean anything good because I’ve been there, man. I’ve been there, and I get it—”
“You don’t,” Eddie interjects. He shrugs. “You just, yeah, man. You don’t.”
“Yeah, I think I probably do. All the shit we’ve gone through this year, it—”
“It’s not just about that, Steve. You don’t — just forget it. I’ll let you drive me home.”
He gets into Steve’s car, just grateful to no longer be on his feet. He’ll ask Wayne to drive him here later and get his van, no big deal. The cashier at the gas station knows him, it won’t be a problem to stay parked where he is for a few hours.
He rests his forehead against the cold window, watching as Steve finishes his cigarette and drops it to the ground.
Eddie’s stomach is starting to turn, so he closes his eyes and tries to breathe through it. He’s not going to throw up in Steve’s nice car, and he’s not asking Steve to pull over, either.
It’s very apparent after about twenty seconds that no amount of slow breathing or cold glass against his forehead is going to stop the way his stomach is churning. He just needs to hold on a few minutes, just this last stretch of road before the trailer park, just needs to make it inside, that’s it, and he can blow chunks to his heart’s content. He just needs to make it to the bathroom.
Eddie doesn’t make it to the front door, much less the bathroom. As soon as he’s out of the car, standing on two feet, it’s too late. He grips the wobbly railing outside and spills his guts right next to the cement stairs.
“Shit, Eddie,” Steve says. “Alright, it’s okay, man. Just get it out.”
His hand is warm on Eddie’s back, soothing as he rubs the space between his shoulders. Steve’s other hand pulls Eddie’s hair away from his face on one side, gathering it up to hold behind his neck. Eddie retches a few more times, only liquid coming up now. It burns in his throat, leaves a rotten taste in his mouth. He thinks he got some in his hair on the side Steve couldn’t save.
He should take a shower. He’ll need to do something about the vomit in the snow so Wayne doesn’t see it when he gets home. He dreads all of it, just wanting to lay down and die. Steve is kind of putting a damper on Eddie’s plans for that.
“Sorry,” Eddie grunts, still doubled over. “I’m good, you can go. I’m good.”
“Nah, I’ll at least make sure you get inside,” Steve says. He’s still rubbing Eddie’s back like it’s a normal thing to do between them. “Don’t need you freezing to death after I went to such great lengths to get you home safe.”
“Fuck off, Harrington.”
“You say that, man, but I don’t think you really want me to leave.”
“You have no idea what I want,” Eddie mutters. “We aren’t friends, Harrington. Did you get visited by the ghosts of Christmas, or something? Righting all your wrongs so you don’t spend eternity in Hell?”
He means it as a joke. It comes out a little too bitter. He’ll blame the taste in his mouth for that.
“What? No, Eddie, I just — I mean, Dustin would kill me if he found out I saw you like this and didn’t at least make sure you have a glass of water by your bed.”
Eddie sighs and slowly rights himself. He feels like absolute shit and wants nothing more than to lay face down in his bed and die.
“Come in, then,” Eddie says. There’s no use fighting him.
And Eddie really doesn’t think he should be alone again tonight.
Steve follows him inside and goes straight to the kitchen. He knows his way around, apparently, even after having only been here one time almost a year ago. Eddie braces himself against the wall as he stumbles toward the bathroom.
He gargles mouthwash, nearly throwing up again in the process, and then takes a good look at himself in the mirror.
No vomit in his hair is a plus.
Otherwise he looks like complete shit.
And beautiful Steve Harrington is seeing him like this.
At this point, Eddie doesn’t even care. He just goes to his room and kicks off his shoes and jeans and tosses his jacket onto his desk chair. He falls into bed just as Steve comes in with a glass of water.
He sets it down on Eddie’s nightstand and looks down at him. Eddie just looks back.
“For what it’s worth, man, I really did want to be your friend,” Steve says. “After everything with Vecna and all that. It was just… Bad timing, I guess.”
“Yeah, you were too busy being Harrington the Hero to spend time with someone like me,” Eddie scoffs.
“I was — no, you were too busy being in a fucking coma, and I had to stay busy so I wouldn’t spend all my time at the hospital. I was there the first three days, and everyone kept…” Steve trails off. “Everyone kept saying it’s not my place, that I didn’t even know you, that I needed to give up my chair for someone who did. I guess I just took all of that to heart.”
Eddie just lays there and listens, wishes Steve’s fingers could be in his hair again, like they were outside. He closes his eyes and nods, letting Steve know he’s still listening. He wants Steve’s hand on his back again, rubbing soothing circles into the spot between his shoulders.
He wishes everyone who told Steve to leave would spontaneously combust, or something. Maybe then he’d have a friend his age that he could’ve called when things got so bad he decided to drive drunk for a pack of cigarettes.
“I thought, you know, I need to let everyone else spend their time with you, let them have their Eddie safe and sound, and if I could just keep busy, I could let that happen,” Steve says. “And then I just stayed busy, and you got out of the hospital, and Robin told me to let you recover, and Dustin was so excited about all the stuff you were planning for Hellfire, and I just didn’t want to ruin any of it.”
“Never did that stuff,” Eddie mumbles.
“Huh?”
“Never recovered,” Eddie answers with a shrug. “Never got to run those campaigns for Hellfire. Didn’t do jack shit that you could’ve ruined by calling me, that’s for fucking sure.”
“It’s just… complicated,” Steve says after a long pause. “Why I stayed away, I mean.”
“Yeah? I’ve got time if you want to explain it.”
“Another time.”
“Are you just gonna stand there? You can sit down, man,” Eddie tells him.
Steve stands there for a few more seconds before he decides to take Eddie up on the offer. He sits down on the edge of Eddie’s bed, pulling one leg up so he can face him better.
“What were you doing tonight, Ed?” Steve whispers.
And it all comes pouring out because he has nothing left to lose anymore.
“Everything’s just been so fucking bad, Steve. It’s never been so fucking bad before. I thought maybe, you know, drink the pain away, or whatever, but I’ve been trying that for months, and I keep trying, and it never—” Eddie hiccups. “— never fucking works. I just want it all to stop hurting. If you hadn’t found me, I would’ve—”
He cuts himself off. This isn’t something he should say out loud. Steve didn’t ask for all of this, and Eddie shouldn’t burden him with it.
“You would’ve what?”
“Killed myself. I was planning on—”
That’s all it takes for Eddie to start crying.
He gets what he wants, then. Steve’s hand settles gently on his back and rubs up and down it. He doesn’t say anything, just runs his fingers soothingly over Eddie’s spine, warmth touching him through his thin shirt.
“I’m gonna stay,” Steve says after a minute. “At least until your uncle comes home, okay?”
“Won’t be back until morning,” Eddie says.
“Then I’ll stay until morning.”
“Fine just… Don’t tell him about this, okay?”
“When he gets here and your van isn’t here, he’s gonna—”
“You’re gonna tell him you found me broken down at the gas station and neither of us had jumper cables,” Eddie says. “I can’t let him worry about me right now. Shit’s hard enough as it is.”
Steve doesn’t say anything for a while. He just stands and kicks off his shoes, then his jeans, and Eddie’s trying not to watch. He’s trying not to notice Steve’s muscular thighs or the bulge in his briefs.
He thinks he should ask what Steve’s doing, but Eddie doesn’t even care anymore.
“Scoot over,” Steve says. “And get under the blanket.”
“Acting like you live here,” Eddie mumbles, moving over to give Steve enough room to lay down comfortably. “Course, Steve, we can share my bed. No problem, thanks for asking.”
“Well, I’m not sleeping on the couch so you can quietly kill yourself without me noticing.”
“I’m not gonna — it wasn’t gonna happen here.”
“Still.”
“Alright, Harrington. I’m a sleep cuddler, though. My band hates me for it, so I just figured I’d warn you.”
Steve laughs, and turns his head to look at Eddie. That gorgeous smile is so close, Eddie wants to kiss it right off his face. Maybe he would, if circumstances were different. Maybe if Eddie were a pretty girl, and if he wasn’t wasted with the taste of vomit in his mouth, maybe if he didn’t know it would be disastrous if he did.
He’d like to kiss Steve, but he won’t.
“If Robin hadn’t been around after Starcourt, I probably would’ve tried,” Steve says after a while. “A lot of really bad shit happened that week, and I had a head injury I didn’t think I’d ever recover from, so… I would’ve tried.”
Eddie just nods. “I mean, I tried in March. That whole thing was… Yeah.”
“I figured.”
“You just keep ruining my plans, huh? We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”
“I’m happy to do it.”
Eddie sighs. It’s weird that Steve actually seems to care about his well being. He didn’t expect that to happen at all. Honestly, he didn’t expect to ever speak more than four words to Steve for the rest of his life, but well. Here he is spilling his guts to the guy, cozying up next to him because heat is radiating off of him and Eddie is cold.
“I just want to feel good again,” Eddie whispers. “And I don’t know how.”
“Sex usually helps me,” Steve says. “Maybe that’s not a lasting solution, but it’s hard to feel like shit when someone’s sucking you off.”
“In my experience, you can still feel like shit while getting sucked off.”
“Not if they’re, like, really good at it.”
“You offering?”
“Not tonight,” Steve snorts. “You smell like a bar floor, dude.”
Not tonight, not tonight, not tonight.
“Another time, then?” Eddie asks, only half joking. “I’ll take you up on that.”
Now, if Steve was joking, this would probably be where he would call Eddie a fag and shove him away before leaving. Only, it really does seem like maybe Steve just isn’t joking at all.
“Feel free.”
“Really?”
Steve shrugs. “Sure. Call me.”
There’s a brief moment where Eddie kind of feels like a person again. It’s weird how that happens, he thinks. He’ll be actively planning to jump into the quarry from the highest cliff one minute, and the next, he feels a glimmer of hope because he’s joking around with someone.
It’s not a permanent fix, more like an old bandaid that lost a lot of its adhesive before it even touched a wound, but it’s something.
He always feels a bit better when he’s with people which really sucks because his instincts tell him to isolate every time things get really bad. He can’t drag anyone else down with him, and when he feels as shitty as he does, he acts shitty, too. He pushes people away, he hurts them. They don’t always come back.
He doesn’t feel like he really has to worry about all of that with Steve, though. Steve kind of seems like the forgiving type, like the kind of guy that loves with all of himself and sees past the ugly stuff.
Given how his friendship with Nancy turned out, and given the stories he heard from Dustin about their breakup a few years ago, Eddie isn’t scared of Steve leaving him when it gets too tough.
But Eddie’s getting ahead of himself.
Christ, thirty drunken minutes with the guy, and Eddie’s thinking about a reality where he and Steve are something to each other.
“What are you thinking about?” Steve asks.
Eddie just shrugs, pulling his eyes away from Steve’s face. He’s been staring. He needs to pull it together.
“I’m really wasted,” Eddie says.
“Yeah, I know.”
“I’m gonna feel like shit in the morning.”
“Yup.”
“Might barf on you.”
“Please don’t,” Steve winces. He sits up. “Here, man, have some water.”
Eddie sits up and takes the water when Steve hands it to him.
“This is weird,” Eddie says after a few sips.
“What, the water?”
Eddie shakes his head. He takes a few more sips of the water, but eyes the bottle of vodka on his desk. Steve's eyes follow his, but he doesn’t say anything about it.
“I mean you,” Eddie says after a pause. “You being here is weird. You caring about me is really weird. I don’t know. You’re in my bed. That’s kinda weird.”
“I can sleep on the floor.”
“No, it’s — I don’t mean it like that,” Eddie says. “It’s not bad, or anything, like I don’t dislike you being here, I just… It’s weird. Sorry, this is coming out all wrong, man.”
“It’s alright,” Steve says. “I get it.”
Eddie sets the glass back down and leans over the edge of the bed to find his jeans. He pulls out his cigarettes and lighter, and offers one to Steve. Steve shakes his head, and reaches for his own jeans on the floor, taking his own pack out.
“Just so we’re clear, I don’t have to sleep on the floor, do I?”
Eddie snorts, and lays back down. He looks up at Steve, the scars covering his sides.
They healed up pretty good. A lot better than Eddie’s did, that’s for sure. Steve’s were more just surface level wounds, but Eddie’s damn near killed him.
Eddie resists the urge to reach out and touch the scarred skin. He resists the urge to trace lines between the moles on Steve’s chest. He doesn’t think about how, beneath the blanket pooling at Steve’s hips, he’s only wearing a pair of white Calvin Klein briefs.
There’s a couple magazine pages shoved under Eddie’s bed that Steve would fit right into.
“You can stay up here,” Eddie says, finally answering Steve’s question. “I’m gonna cuddle you, though.”
“You said that already.”
“Well, I really mean it.”
“I didn’t doubt you, man.”
“I’m really gonna do it.”
He stubs out his unfinished cigarette in the ashtray on his nightstand and gets comfortable again. Steve sits there and finishes his before laying back down beside Eddie.
“Get some sleep, Ed,” Steve says. “Sleep it off, we’ll get your car in the morning when you wake up, and I don’t know, I’ll make you breakfast.”
“No food here, not sure how you’re gonna do that.”
“I’ll take you to my house. I have food.”
“Nah. You’ve done enough.”
“C’mon, I keep hearing about these cuddles, and I haven’t even gotten any yet,” Steve says, clearly changing the subject, like there’s no reason to even entertain the conversation. “Starting to think you’re full of shit.”
“I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
“Munson? Gentleman? More like full of shit,” Steve teases.
“Fuck you,” Eddie huffs. “Fuck it, fine.”
He throws one arm over Steve, and then his leg, really hamming it up to make it seem like a joke, even though he wants nothing more in the world right now. He laughs and puts his head down heavily on Steve’s chest for one beat, then two, then he lifts his head again and tries to roll over into his own space again.
Playing it off because Steve was probably joking, and Eddie doesn’t want to seem too desperate.
“Nah, come back here,” Steve says softly, and then he moves — slow, like he expects Eddie to move or push him away — and slips his arm around Eddie’s shoulders.
And Steve’s really just so warm, Eddie can’t resist scooting in a bit closer.
“Fucking weird,” Eddie mumbles.
“If you’re uncomfortable, I don’t have to—”
“No.”
Eddie hasn’t been held in a really long time. He doesn’t even remember the last time, honestly. After days, or maybe weeks, or maybe even months of sleeping like complete shit, or not at all, it’s easy to succumb to his drunken exhaustion now that he’s finally comfortable and warm.
***
Eddie wakes up in the morning with a mouth drier than a desert and a bad feeling in his stomach. He thinks of last night, of the drinks he poured down his throat, and he has to cover his gag with his hand just in case.
He slips out of bed, leaving a sleeping Steve sprawled out across the whole thing, and stumbles to the bathroom to splash his face with some water and try not to throw up. He can smell coffee, knows Wayne’s home from work and will probably have questions, and Eddie looks like complete shit, and he never did anything about the puke on the steps outside, and Wayne’s probably gonna know exactly what happened.
First thing’s first, he showers away the remnants of last night. Washes his hair, even though he really doesn’t feel like it. He has to sit down on the floor at some point because he gets too light headed to stand for a minute there, but he’s not ready to get out, either.
He gets dressed in yesterday’s underwear and jeans because laundry hasn’t happened in a while, and he fishes a sweatshirt with a hood out from under his bed so his hair doesn’t freeze when he goes outside for some air and a smoke.
Steve sleeps on. Eddie lets him.
“Merry Christmas, bud,” Wayne says from behind his newspaper when Eddie leaves his bedroom.
“Merry Christmas,” Eddie parrots. He puts on a brave face and swallows down his nausea as he passes by him to the coffee maker.
He pours himself a cup and takes it right outside to sit on the couch. He thinks maybe he’s home free, and that Wayne won’t ask any of those questions Eddie came up with in his head, but then the door opens.
“You being safe?” Wayne asks from the other side of the storm door.
“Huh?”
“You and Harrington,” Wayne says. “Don’t need any details, just tell me you’re being safe.”
“Oh, nah, no, it’s — he’s just a friend, Wayne. Don’t worry about it.”
“Sure,” Wayne says, unconvinced. “If you say so, son. Where’s the van?”
“Gas station. Broke down, Steve got me home.”
“You coulda called me.”
Eddie doesn’t respond. Wayne comes outside. Eddie pulls out a cigarette and avoids eye contact with him, focusing on the end of it where he’s trying to light it. Then he stares off past his feet to the ground. It’s not so cold out this morning, a warmer day in a week of really cold ones. He wishes he could shake the winter blues in his brain along with the chill, but he knows that’s not how it works.
“You boys have too much to drink last night?”
Eddie doesn’t answer.
“Alright,” Wayne sighs. “May not seem like it, but I’m not actually stupid, y’know.”
“I know.”
“Already almost lost you,” Wayne says. “Don’t be doing stupid shit, Ed. You know I can’t afford a good casket.”
And Eddie thinks that’s probably fucked up to say, but it’s even more fucked up that it makes him laugh. It’s a joke, a dark one at that, but Eddie knows Wayne’s serious, too. He worries about Eddie, which is exactly why Eddie didn’t want him to know about any of this.
“Okay, Wayne,” he says earnestly.
“Good. Thank you. You’re grown, I can’t take your keys or lock up the liquor, but you’re a smart kid, so you better act like it. Put that diploma to good use.”
Eddie salutes him. “Yes, sir.”
“Cut that ‘yes, sir,’ crap out,” Wayne snorts. “Finish your smoke and go back to bed. You look like shit.”
Wayne disappears back into the trailer, leaving Eddie alone to finish his cigarette. He probably won’t fall back asleep, but he still goes back inside and slips into bed.
“You’re cold,” Steve murmurs.
“Sorry.”
“Come here.”
And Steve pulls Eddie in close and rubs warmth back into his back and shoulders. He buries his face in Eddie’s neck, not saying a word about Eddie’s wet hair.
It might be even weirder now that Eddie’s slept off the alcohol. Last night, Steve was just being nice. He probably laid sprawled half on top of Eddie so he would know if Eddie tried getting out of bed to kill himself, or something. Now, there’s no reason for all of this, and he likes it too much.
“I need to get my van.”
“Five more minutes.”
Eddie gives him a little bit longer than that. When they finally pull themselves out of bed, Eddie doesn’t feel any better. They drive in silence to the gas station where Steve found him last night, and Steve gets out of his car the same time Eddie does. He walks around it to Eddie’s side and leans against the side of the van.
“Come over for breakfast?”
“Nah, I should, uh,” Eddie says, shifting back and forth on his feet. To Steve, he probably just looks cold, like he’s trying to keep moving to retain some body heat. In actuality, he’s nervous and doesn’t really know how to act or what to say now that he’s sober and looking at Steve in broad daylight. “I should get home to Wayne. Christmas, and all that.”
“I wanna see you again,” Steve says. “Soon.”
“Okay. I mean, yeah, of course.”
“Just… I know maybe now’s a bad time to say this, but I really think I need to just say it and then go, but uh,” Steve says. “I like you. A bit more than I probably should.”
“Oh,” Eddie breathes. He wishes he didn’t feel so awful, maybe he could appreciate the butterflies in his stomach a little more.
“And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. Just, you know, if you do—”
“Yeah,” Eddie says quickly, dropping his eyes to look at the patch of snow near his feet. “Yeah, Steve, I probably like you a little more than I should.”
“Okay,” Steve breathes. “Good. Well, then I’ll call you? When you’re feeling better, we can catch a movie, or something.”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Yes. I am. Whenever you’re up for it.”
“So the whole sucking my dick thing is actually on the table, then?”
“Yeah, man. Like, if you want. I can’t believe you remember that.”
“I wasn’t that drunk last night, Steve.”
“You were pretty drunk.”
“I have the best memory in the world.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
“I’ll call you.”
Steve nods and pushes away from Eddie’s car. “Yeah, but hey, man, if you’re not looking for anything, you know… I still want to be friends, okay?”
“Yeah, friends. Good.”
Eddie gets in the driver’s seat of his van, lingering with the door open to see if the conversation goes anywhere else. He doesn’t want to leave Steve just yet. He wants to take him up on that breakfast offer, but he knows Wayne’s waiting for him, and that there’s a diner just outside of Hawkins that they always go to on Christmas because it’s the only place in the world open, and they never have the time to cook anything special.
But Steve just nods, and turns away to get into his car.
They both drive away in opposite directions, and Eddie doesn’t think either of them are going to follow through on that whole friends thing, let alone the date or the dick sucking.
Maybe that’s okay. Maybe it ties Eddie’s stomach up in knots.
Everything’s just so confusing, and he feels like shit. Last night, he wanted to kill himself, and today he’s thinking about dating and the people he might want to stick around for. And that’s not easy to wrap his head around. Part of him thinks that maybe it’s just best to put Steve in the back of his mind, locked away in one of the dusty file cabinets he pictures when he imagines storing his memories.
He decides to leave it open just a crack.
***
One year later.
Steve knows Christmas doesn’t come and go easy for Eddie.
They’ve been dating for six months and a handful of days, and in the time before that, when they were taking their new friendship slowly, Eddie opened up to Steve about a lot of different things. That night one year ago has come up more than once.
The thing about Eddie is that, with each new thing he tells Steve about, it seems like he’s always bracing for Steve to leave. It’s like he thinks every story will be the one that sends Steve running for the hills.
And that’s the main issue. Steve realizes that pretty quickly.
Eddie’s got a chronic case of loneliness, even when he’s surrounded by his club or his band, even when he’s working the bar at the Hideout and pretending to flirt for better tips.
He’s still lonely, and when he’s actually alone, things get really bad.
That’s why he won’t let him be alone today, not on Christmas, and not last night either. It wasn’t great last night, and Eddie had a lot to drink and then smoked too much pot, and Steve had to make sure he didn’t asphyxiate in his sleep, or something, but they’re getting through it.
It’s their second time waking up together on Christmas morning, but this year Steve’s allowed to kiss Eddie awake, and he’s allowed to follow him to the shower and wash his hair for him. He helps Eddie lower himself to the shower floor when the hangover starts getting the best of him.
It’s not at all perfect, and not a whole lot is much better for Eddie than it was a year ago, but it’s something. And Eddie doesn’t have to go through it alone, and he’s still here, and even if it’s shitty and really fucking hard, it still passes.