Chapter Text
EDDIE
The only thing that Eddie knows about the Harringtons is that they're rich and they're humans - a combination which is rare in Hawkins, Indiana, for all that the town's leadership speaks of equality - and that Uncle Wayne told him to stay far away from them.
"They've got enough influence that if you so much as sneezed the wrong way near them, there's nothing I could do except scream." Considering he gets his banshee blood from Wayne's side of the family, he'd taken the words to heart. Which is why he's disturbed to see Steve Harrington wandering around in his trailer park at two in the morning with blood on his clothes, a thousand yard stare, and a baseball bat clenched in his hands. But despite all of that information rattling around in his brain and screaming at him to pretend like he didn't see a thing, all he can think is that he has to do something. Almost without his own permission he finds himself stepping away from the window and making his way out of the trailer and across the grass and the gravel.
The moment the first crunch of gravel is heard, Steve is already spinning towards him with his bat ready to swing, and Eddie finds himself throwing up his hands. Steve is breathing hard and his admittedly quite handsome face is flushed, and he doesn't look like he's really present at the moment. He looks like Wayne when he has his bad days where Vietnam is haunting him and he just… checks out.
"Woah, woah, woah! I don't want to hurt you, man, I just want to make sure you're okay. Well - well clearly you aren't, but maybe I can help on that front? Somehow?" He says, not sure what to say but doing his best to keep his voice level. Calm. Steve looks at him with his brow furrowed, stance not relaxing, and Eddie tries again.
"Are you hurt? Do I need to take you to a hospital or something? You're wandering around covered in blood," he says, pointedly ignoring that the scent of said blood is making his mouth water, "and that's not a safe thing for a human to do in this town normally, let alone at night."
Steve's eyes snap to his and within moments, Steve has hooked his legs out from under him and Eddie is on the ground. The grass is dewy and cool against his skin, and he watches as hands above him flex their grip on the bat, ready to strike if necessary. Not that it'd help that much if Eddie actually wanted to fight the dude, probably it would only slow him down, but he's a little impressed.
"Yeah?" Steve says, voice tense. "And you're one of the reasons why, aren't you? You trying to pull a fast one on me, Munson?"
"You know who I am? I'm flattered. Coming from a Harrington, that's an honor." Eddie says, unable to stop himself from grinning up at him even though he knows it will show off his fangs. Part of his mind rolls its eyes at his own false bravado - it is not, actually, a good thing to know that Harrington knows his name, and it makes him anxious.
Steve rolls his eyes, looking a little less far-away and a lot more exasperated. "I know some of the kids in Hellfire. They talk about you, sometimes." Ah. Suddenly the world makes more sense and the anxiety mostly (but not totally) takes its leave. Eddie had continued DMing for the Hellfire club even after graduating at their request. Or more accurately, he caved to their weaponized begging and puppy dog eyes. They've grown on him. Like a fungus, he thinks when he is being less charitable, but one he wouldn't get rid of for the world.
"Well then." He claps his hands together. "To answer your questions, you are half correct! I am in fact a creature of the night, but I've fed recently and was just genuinely concerned. I can't guarantee the same for everyone else, unfortunately." Eddie says, not even annoyed by the suspicion. Honestly, props to Harrington for being on his guard. He's known a fair number of humans in this town who took the fact that it's against the local laws for them to be fed upon without consent to mean that they were safe from being taken advantage of when in reality they weren't.
Steve looks at him for a minute before sighing deeply, slumping a bit and letting his arms drop so the bat is hanging loosely at his side. He even leans down and offers Eddie a hand, which he takes easily. Standing on even ground once more, Eddie once again finds himself studying Steve. The guy looks stressed and exhausted and Eddie's mouth moves before he can stop it. "Do you want to sleep on the couch? Or at least have a shower? It's just that we seem to be friends once removed and the brats would probably be twice as annoying if the other twenty-something they apparently hang out with gets mauled in my trailer park." Good god, what is with him tonight? It's as though he's been robbed of every ounce of sense. Eddie feels the urge to take himself out behind the shed like Old Yeller the longer Steve looks at him without answering.
Finally he gets a nod and he pointedly ignores the little flutter of excitement he feels. This isn't - this isn't anything, he's just trying to be a decent person, and anyway Wayne is probably going to kill him. Do banshees scream when the person who is going to die will do so at their own hands? Eddie's never asked, but he'll probably find out soon enough.
MAX
Max hides her smile as she watches Billy pace around the living room of the trailer, occasionally stopping to rub his wrists on a piece of furniture or an item on his neck with a quietly embarrassed air. He may as well be pissing on the furniture at this point and it's kind of hilarious. Sue her, with the nightmare the last few weeks have been? She'll find her fun where she damn well wants.
It's odd to feel such a lack of tension with Billy around. But now she can feel that there is no need to. And all because her brother was turned into a fucking werewolf. Two weeks ago, she'd never have believed the supernatural was real. That disbelief was painfully shattered the night before they fled California. Billy had been acting strangely for a while, by then.
He'd come back from a date one night covered in scratches and bruises, looking pale and terrified in the doorway of her bedroom in a way she'd never seen before no matter how fucked up he'd gotten, in a way that made her heart beat too fast and hard and had her fixing him a glass of water and getting the first aid kit they both hid from Neil without a word. She'd sat him on her bed and cleaned his wounds and politely ignored the shakiness of his breathing and the far away look in his eyes. The fucking bite wound wasn't something she'd ever had to deal with before, but she just disinfected and bandaged it the best she could. Still he'd remained quiet and Max felt a horrid uneasy feeling build, one that wouldn't abate until the whole ordeal had ended.
She'd surprised even herself when she slowly hugged him, and he surprised her in turn when he did the same. For a long moment, they'd sat like that, her eyes fixed on the moonlight coming through the blinds and emotions she couldn't name making her stomach uneasy and her chest warm at the same time.
"Thank you," Billy said, voice choked and hoarse. "Just. Thank you." All she could do was nod.
After that, Billy had been a hot mess. There was no other way to describe it. Jumpier, and doing his best to hide that fact. Getting into more fights at school than he normally did, fucking off randomly to who knows where and giving Neil shitty, mouthy explanations for where he was and why he was slacking on his chores that resulted in him getting hit with alarming frequency. She'd seen it, once or twice, and even the way Billy was taking Neil's abuse was different. Normally he'd lose all the fight in him and just… let it happen. Let himself be hurt. Not anymore. Billy would stare Neil in the eyes, fists clenched, and it just egged the asshole on. She hated it, hated how much worse the bruises were, how many more there were. Billy even showed up to school with a black eye twice. Normally, Neil would avoid their faces.
And throughout it all, Billy was weirdly nice to her. By which she means, not being antagonistic, making dinner for the two of them a few times, even asking how her day went. He was still gruff and rough around the edges and gave her shit, he was still Billy, but any aggressiveness towards her had all but disappeared. Max had liked the change, of course she had, but it had felt too out of place for her to be comfortable getting her hopes up or letting her guard down. It would hurt too much to let him in only to have him go back to acting the way he had been before. It made her tense, it made her off-kilter.
Then, the night of the full moon, she'd gotten suspended after getting into a fight at school with some stupid girl in her math class. Her heart had dropped out of her chest when the principal had told her they were going to call her parents, and sheer terror gripped her when she'd been told that her step-dad had answered. Billy had picked her up after school, took one look at her shaking hands, and not asked her any questions. But any gratefulness she felt was completely overwhelmed by her mounting fear with every mile closer they got to the house. Billy fixed them both some mac n' cheese and they'd been sitting together on the couch watching TV when Neil's car came up the drive.
She doesn't remember a word of what Neil had said to her that night. Max only vaguely remembers being shaken, pushed around - but it was when Neil backhanded her that a long, low growl filled the room and her hair stood on end that she was snapped out of it and every detail became crystal clear. Billy had stood up and was staring at Neil, chest heaving.
"What the fuck was that?" Neil spit. "You need to be put in your place as well?"
"Max." Billy said, his voice too-deep in a way that made her mind scream to run. "Move."
And she had, scrambling out of the way without a word, tripping over herself in her haste. She'd been so scared she felt like she was going to throw up. From the edge of the room she'd watched as Billy grabbed the arm Neil used to throw a punch at him and swung him off his feet and into the TV like the man weighed nothing, glass shattering. When Neil made to get up Billy fucking… roared, there was no other word for it, and hunched over on himself, shaking. Max felt like she couldn't breathe. She was frozen in place as Neil staggered to his feet only for Billy to blur forward and five bloody lines to appear across Neil's face, because what-the-fuck-Billy's-hands-were-clawed, and after a moment the man was screaming and clutching at his face. She'd watched as her step-brother then threw himself at Neil and they went down behind the couch, she’d listened to the screaming and the moaning and the sobbing and the thumps and the wet sounds of flesh ripping. She'd heard the final choked-off gasp and crunch of bone before everything went quiet. And still she couldn't move.
When Billy had rounded the couch he was covered in blood, his hands and face most of all. His mouth was open and it dripped off of glistening, razor sharp canines and it startled a breath out of her that caused his eyes to lock onto her. Even his eyes were different. They glowed an unnatural gold like a predator's and his pupils had shrunk. He started moving towards her and she couldn't move, she'd never been so afraid in her life, she couldn't move - her eyes snapped shut and she felt tears drip down her cheeks unbidden. And despite it all Neil's voice was in her head saying, "What are you fucking crying for? I'll give you something to cry about." But Neil was dead, she hadn't seen it but with the sounds she'd heard there was no way he wasn't, and he had cried before the end, hadn't he?
Max had flinched when she felt hands touch her cheeks, her eyes snapping open when they immediately left her face. Billy looked - sad? He was panting and cocked his head at her, and when he tried to touch her once more and she flinched again, he whined like a dog and retreated a few steps, watching her with big eyes. Her terror had slowly morphed to confusion. 'What the fuck is this? Is he going to attack me or not?' She remembers thinking. Eventually, mind on autopilot, she had gone and grabbed the first aid kit again as if what had happened was just Neil smacking Billy around a little. She'd turned to make her way back to Billy and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw that he'd followed her. And without thinking she'd shoved him, then braced like she was going to be hit. That had resulted in more whining, but that time he'd hugged her instead of backing away.
They'd spent an unknowable amount of time in the hallway, Billy's face buried in her neck and arms wrapped around her as he'd hunched over, shaking. Max didn't know what to think of any of it, too shocked still, but when he'd started crying she'd rubbed his back. She'd tried to pull away when she'd heard wet sounds by her ear, but Billy had only held her tighter until all at once he'd abruptly pulled away and fled, and as he'd gone she'd seen for just a moment the mauled flesh of one of his arms.
When he'd come back the next morning, it was with several members of a local pack of werewolves. Fucking werewolves, because apparently they’re a real thing and her step-brother was now one of them. They’d offered her the short version of the explanation in the doorway as Billy awkwardly hovered behind without looking at her and she’d tiredly offered them coffee with a veneer of politeness as if they were social workers or neighbors, people she’d needed to think well of her. One of them, a man, had sat down with Billy, and another, a woman, with her, while the others made their way over to what remained of Neil.
"Your name is Max, right?" The woman had said, and she nodded, staring at her hands, listening blankly as the situation was explained. Werewolves and other supernatural creatures exist, mostly in magically protected small towns that dot the country and allow them safety and secrecy.
It was only when the woman had explained how surprised they were that Billy hadn't bitten her that her head snapped up.
"What? What do you mean?" She'd asked.
"Normally, wolves who are bitten - rather than born - shift for the first time with the pack they've been invited into. Wolves need bonds with their pack members to withstand the first shift without going insane. Your brother was bitten by a rogue wolf, and when that happens it's well known that the new wolf will try to bite any humans around them in an instinctive effort to turn them so they'll have someone to bond with. When that doesn't work, because it takes a complete moon cycle for a bite to take, they'll usually kill the human. But your brother," and here the woman's eyes had drifted over appreciatively to Billy in a way that made Max disgusted given the situation, "didn't even bite you. He bit himself over and over again and when he felt like he was about to bite you? He forced himself to leave. That takes real willpower."
The man who'd been speaking to Billy abruptly cut in. "We think that part of it was that he'd already spilled blood, so that made it easier to leave." She rolls her eyes at the obvious jealousy in the guy's voice just because the girl had complimented Billy.
She'd listened with only half an ear after that, mind going a thousand miles a minute. But having heard that Billy had mutilated himself to keep from hurting her? With the thoughts of how good to her he'd been for the past few weeks fresh in her mind? When they talked about relocating Billy, she'd insisted on coming with him.
"What?" She'd said, crossing her arms defensively at the looks on everyone's faces. "You think they won't question me about Neil's death, ask me what I saw? Ask me if Billy did it? And it's not like I have any real love for Susan. She may be my mom, but she's never fucking acted like it. I've had to take care of myself for as long as I can remember. Every boyfriend she ever had hit me, Neil included, and she'll just go and find another one like she always does."
The male stranger - the male werewolf stranger, her mind near-hysterically points out - opens his mouth looking like he's going to disagree, and she jumps back in again. "And I just heard you telling him your kind can make up new paperwork for him. He's an adult now, make him my guardian." She had glared at him, at the woman, hoping she sounded more confident than she actually felt.
"Max." She'd turned to Billy when he said her name with a hoarse voice, and he looked stunned at what she'd said. "Are you sure about that? You just - you saw what I fucking did." She had. She'd stared at Neil's mangled corpse and felt nothing but relief at the fact that he was dead, that he wouldn't ever hurt her or Billy or even Susan again, and failed to feel bad about his death whatsoever. "And they're saying it'd be best to move to one of the towns where non-humans live, one far away from California so we don't run into any trouble with the police. You'd be stuck with me." He had looked so prepared for her to say no, she wasn't sure, that the look on his face when she said she was was one she'd treasure forever. She'd die before she'd admit that, though.
And seeing him now, fussing over the details in the shitty little trailer they'd been set up in, she felt like she'd made the right decision. It was a huge change, and it was scary, but she'd paradoxically never felt quite as safe as she did now, knowing that anything that tried to hurt her would quite literally be ripped apart.
She hadn't known, at the time when she decided to do so, that part of the reason she felt safe going with him was the pack bond they had formed. They'd only realized it had already formed when some creepy dude hit on her in a diner while they drove over and she'd felt Billy's protective rage. Ever since, she'd been able to feel the low-level background hum of his care for her, and he could feel the same from her. The steadiness and surety it gives, the ability to know that the things you feel are reciprocated, is overwhelming. If they'd had to talk about their feelings Max wasn't sure they'd have ever gotten this close. Certainly not this quickly.
"Do you like it well enough?" Billy asks, not looking at her. He’s nervous, she knows, and it makes her feel warm to know that he gives a shit what she thinks at all.
Max kicks her feet. "Well, given the lack of stains, garbage, needles, or asshole boyfriends? It's a step up from the other places I've lived." She doesn't tell him that she's pretty sure the reason she likes it is because she'll be sharing it with him. She doesn't tell him that he actually feels like her brother now, lack of blood be damned, and she might finally know what kids at school had meant when they talked about how they loved their siblings. But thankfully she doesn't need to. They're both equally allergic to feelings, after all. Her joke gains her a smile from him anyway, so she counts it as a success.
Billy cocks his head suddenly, listening, and she notices immediately. "Billy? What is it?" His hearing, just like most other things it seems, has grown stronger since he was bitten.
"I'm not sure." He says, before more quietly muttering, "What the fuck is hellfire?" Snorting, Max turns away and puts her music back on, pulling the covers up higher. She would be sleeping on the couch until they were able to get a second mattress, and she needed to get some sleep.
"Turn the light off when you're done eavesdropping, won't you?" She yawns out.
She is already asleep by the time he's out the door.
STEVE
Steve is still a little concerned he’s going to become a vampire chew-toy, no matter how much Dustin has talked up Eddie, as he follows the guy inside his trailer. But the offer of a shower and a nap is tempting enough to lure him inside regardless, especially when accompanied by bambi-wide eyes. He definitely can’t do either at his house after - after - he refuses to think of it. He can’t, not yet. He’ll lose his shit again, and he can’t afford to do that. Abruptly, he realizes that Eddie left and came back with a glass of water without his noticing, and he scrambles to take it.
“Make yourself at home,” Eddie says, gesturing around the living room. “I’m sure it's not up to your standards, but it’s what we have.” There’s a hint of bitterness in his tone, and despite himself Steve wants to make it disappear.
“No, it’s nice. It looks like people actually live here, unlike mine.” He says as he takes a seat. “And this couch is comfortable.” Apparently he’s too tired to be anything but honest. There are photos along the walls, some of them with Eddie in them, others without. But the smiles in them look genuine and none of the people look carefully posed - they all look real in a way the photos in his own house don’t. There are little nick-knacks and decorations around the room, none of them matching, and the colors of the furniture don’t go perfectly with the wallpaper or the carpet, and Steve loves it.
Eddie seems a bit taken aback, but sounds pleased when he says a quick thanks over his shoulder as he darts off to another room. Steve nurses his water, glancing around the living room some more.
From afar comes Eddie’s voice. “Do you want some leftover lasagna?” Almost in answer, Steve feels his stomach growl. He hasn’t eaten anything since the afternoon of what is now the day before, too busy setting things up for the party he hadn’t even really wanted to be throwing.
“Um, sure.” He calls out, then lays his head down against the back of the couch. He hears the ding of the microwave several minutes later and sluggishly lifts his head in time to see that his unlikely host has warmed up a whole half a pan of the stuff and is sitting it on the coffee table on top of some pot warmers. Bemused, he watches as paper plates and silverware are placed with dramatic flourishes. He shakes his head in amusement at the antics. Eddie seems much more comfortable now.
“Thanks, man.” Steve says, relaxing a bit more deeply into the couch. Right after he does there are three sharp raps on the door that startle him into complete alertness once more. He makes as if to stand, only for Eddie to wave him down.
“Either my uncle is home early or it's someone else for me. Either way, I’ll handle it.” Eddie says, voice mild, as he walks over.
Steve turns around to look regardless, far too keyed up from his shitty evening to assume it’ll all be fine. When the door opens it’s a guy around their age with curly dirty-blonde hair and blue, blue eyes in a white wife-beater tank that stretches taught across his broad frame, hands already shoved into his pockets. Steve has no idea who he is.
“Hi, can I help you? I don’t believe we’ve met.” Eddie says, sounding a mix between confused and annoyed.
“Billy Hargrove. I just moved in across from you. Got here from California yesterday.” Billy says, and shoulders his way through the door while Eddie splutters. He looks directly at Steve and Steve feels a little jolt. So, he is here for Steve? “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but is it going to be a problem? Because my kid sister is living with me, and I can handle myself but if there’s something running around mauling people nearby I’d damn well like to know.” Okay, so he’s just concerned in general, he’s not after Steve. He’s not - like Barb was.
Steve looks down. “I don’t know.” He says. “I don’t even know what happened, for sure.” And it’s the truth, but the guy doesn’t look satisfied, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to have to give up more information than that even though the thought makes his throat feel thick.
Eddie jumps in. “Alright, how about you sit down?” He says to Billy. “I just heated up some leftover lasagna anyway. Aaand admittedly,” here he cuts his glance to Steve, “I am also curious what went down.”
Shrugging, Billy takes his suggestion and sits down in the recliner across from the couch Steve is on, and without a moment’s hesitation piles his own plate high with lasagna. Noticing they haven’t done the same, he pauses with a bit already in his mouth. “What the fuck are you guys looking at? I’ve been eating shitty diner and gas station food for two weeks while we drove here, sue me.” He says, and continues eating, even letting out a happy little moan at the taste that has Steve and Eddie exchanging an awkward glance.
Steve copies him, albeit with a bit more restraint in how much food he serves himself, but Eddie continues to sit there without moving. Before Billy can say anything, because it looks like he’s about to, Steve rolls his eyes. “Eddie’s a vampire, that’s why he’s not eating.” Billy looks intrigued by this.
“Oh shit, really? You’re the first one I’ve met, then.” Billy takes another bite of lasagna, then adds, “Not that that’s saying much. I only found out about all this shit like two weeks ago. What’re you, then, pretty boy?” He asks, gesturing at Steve with his fork.
And Steve feels like he’s been set on fire at the pet name. “Pretty boy?” He all but squeaks. Is he being flirted with? Steve has rarely had men flirt with him but it was usually a lot more covert and a lot less complimentary. Maybe it’s an east coast thing? Billy only smirks and gestures again for him to answer. It takes him a second to remember what the question he's been asked is. “I’m human. Fully human. Normal everywhere but here. Most people in town have at least a little creature blood, or are magic users of some sort, but not me. Not that there aren’t others in town, but we’re the minority.” He feels a familiar curl of self-pity that he ruthlessly crushes as quickly as he can. And then, his stomach drops out. Because what he just said may not be entirely accurate.
“Two weeks?” Eddie says. “Sorry, I just can’t get over that. Two fucking weeks. Man, you’re jumping in the deep end aren’t you? Straight from everyday human life to one of the USA’s premium monster towns. Jesus Christ.”
“It’s a good thing I’m a strong swimmer, then.” Billy says, and he sounds cocky, sounds arrogant. Eddie isn’t wrong - they probably only told Billy the bare essentials before letting him move in - but for some reason, just like earlier when he said he could handle himself, Steve has the inclination to believe him.
“That’s what I’ve been told, anyway. That I’m full human. After tonight I’m not completely sure anymore.” Steve blurts out, unable to stop himself. He leans over to set his plate down for a second and picks up his glass of water and abruptly grimaces at the feeling of his bloody shirt shifting against his skin. It hasn't even been long enough for it to dry yet. He drains the cup, sets it down, and looks up to find Billy and Eddie both looking at him expectantly. What - oh yeah, the explanation. Probably sounded like he was trying to be mysterious, but in reality he's just a mess. His eyes drift up to the ceiling. He’s really doing this? He’s really telling two total strangers the tale of the worst night of his life so far? Well, almost total - Eddie he's at least heard a little about from Mike, Dustin, and Lucas. Billy, he doesn't know at all. But like many other occasions in Steve's life, knowing it's a terrible idea doesn't stop him from charging ahead.
“It’s like I told you. I don't know if it will happen again. I’ve never seen anything like that before. I threw a party today - yesterday, now. Really, my friend Robin pressured me into throwing one. ‘What’s the point of that big empty house if not for parties?’ That was her excuse, at least, I know she thinks I don’t get out enough any more. I just can’t bring myself to say no to her when I don’t have a reason to.” He pauses, scrambles for a drink of his water and flounders when he realizes he already drank all of it, only for Eddie to hand him his own with a raised brow. He wets his mouth before he continues. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He really doesn’t. Steve would rather talk about literally anything else than last night.
“Right, so. Honestly I mostly just ended up wrangling drunk teenagers half of the night. Not exactly fun. But towards the end, Barb came up to me. She’s my ex-girlfriend’s best friend, and she’s also full-human, so I know her well enough. She said she needed to talk to me and asked me to meet her outside by the pool when I had a chance. So I gave the call for everyone to start leaving. I got there as quickly as I could, but by the time I made it outside, everyone was gone. It's August, so there weren't that many people out of the house. The poolside was empty, and the stragglers were making their way out through the house. I circled around the pool a few times and didn’t see her. Eventually I made my way back into the house. And that’s when she - that’s when she.” Steve stops. His bat has found its way back into his lap and he's gripping the wood so tight that his knuckles are white. The others haven't said a word so far, and he can’t bring himself to look at them. He remembers the creeping dread he had felt. He hadn't thought he needed to rush, but when he hadn't found her he'd started to fear the worst. Worry that Barb had needed his help, wanted him to throw his name around so some creep would leave her alone. He’d been worried he’d fucked up and would be the reason she’d be taken advantage of.
"And then she…?" Billy prompts, fairly gently considering how gruff the guy's been so far. For a split second he looks up, sees Billy's intense focus and Eddie's steady regard aimed at him, and then forces himself to go on.
The words choke his throat as they come out. “She just - she attacked me. And Barb isn’t strong, I got her off me quickly enough. But she - she kept getting back up, kept coming at me. Her eyes were gone, like they’d been torn out of her face or something, and no matter what I said or did she wouldn’t stop. She just kept trying to kill me. She got a knife from the kitchen when I ran through there trying to get away, and when I knocked that out of her hands she started grabbing random objects to hit me with. I panicked and broke her arm somehow but it didn’t slow her down one bit, she just chased after me with it hanging at a fucked up angle.” Nausea rises at the memory and his eyes ache in a sort of sympathetic pain - or perhaps that's at least partly the tears he didn't realize were falling.
He stops again, and this time he realizes his breathing is far too hard and far too fast, and he can’t breathe. Steve had begged Barb to stop, over and over. But it wasn’t Barb, it couldn't have been. And if it wasn’t Barb, what was it? Could it take over anyone? What did it want with him? His vision starts to blur and when he feels a hand on his he grabs it, hard, and holds on for dear fucking life. But he still can’t breathe until abruptly his head is knocked to the side and he sucks in a deep breath on autopilot.
“Christ, what the fuck was that?” Eddie is saying, and Billy snaps back. “I don’t know! That’s what people do in movies when someone is hysterical!” And it startles a laugh out of him. He laughs, and he keeps laughing, and when he hears Eddie say, “Oh my god, you broke him!” In a panicked voice he laughs some more. Why is it so funny? Eventually he calms down, the feeling of a thumb stroking the back of his hand bringing him back to his body. When he’s able to, he looks over and sees that it’s Eddie, and he smiles gratefully and doesn’t let him take his hand away. This situation is too fucked up for him to feel embarrassed about it.
He clears his throat, and Eddie tries to tell him he doesn’t have to say the rest, but Billy interrupts. “Yeah, he kinda does. I get what you’re saying but we do need to know, and he might have to repeat it to the police or whatever later. And I’ve heard it’s good to talk about fucked up shit that’s happened to you.” Billy rubs his neck sort of sheepishly when he says the last part, and Steve can immediately tell that’s some advice with “do as I say, not as I do” on the label.
“It’s okay, he’s right. Just - give me one moment.” Steve directs at Eddie, taking a few moments before he continues. The air conditioning kicks on and he lets the hum distract him, listens to the sounds of Billy shifting in the recliner, digs his left hand into the fabric of the couch and feels the texture of the fabric.
“I didn’t want to hurt her but I didn’t want to die, either. Somehow she cornered me in a way where I ended up running up the stairs. I pushed her down them. I heard bones snap. For a moment I thought it was over. Until she got up. Her leg wouldn't hold her but she just began dragging herself up the stairs. I ran towards the bedrooms, and maybe if I’d been less panicked I’d have grabbed the gun I know my dad keeps in their bedroom, but instead I grabbed the bat from my room. Turns out I might as well have not bothered. It didn't do a damned thing. I don't know why I brought it with me out of the house.”
He swallows, counts to five. “She got the bat of my hand. Pinned me. Choked me. I know for a fact I was about to pass out. Then out of nowhere I heard a ringing in my ears, all these fucking voices but none of them saying anything I could understand. And I remember it getting louder, and brighter, and feeling like my body was being pulled apart, and when I opened my eyes her corpse was all crumpled up on the landing. And - and all I could think was that Nancy was going to kill me because I’d kill her best friend, that my parents would be pissed that they’d have to deal with the fallout.”
Steve snorts derisively, shakes his head. “So I left the house, and started walking. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t remember the walk over here, or getting to the trailer park. But clearly it happened. The end.” He says, and feels exhausted but also a little relieved. He turns to Billy and gives him a weak grin. “I think you’re right. It does feel good to get it all out.”
“I killed my dad, the first time I shifted.” Billy says after a beat, and Steve feels like he has whip-lash. He stares at Billy, eyes wide. “He was a piece of shit, he hit us, but I don’t think I’d have killed him if I’d been in control of myself. Or at least not like that. Definitely not in front of Maxine. So, I don’t know if killing people when you’d rather not is a common experience around here, but you’re not alone.” And despite how clumsily it was done, Steve is genuinely touched by the attempt at comfort, and he inclines his head towards Billy with a small smile.
They both look up when Eddie stands. “It seems this is the inaugural meeting of our club, held in my living room no less, and no one thought to tell me.” He says, affecting an over-wrought tone of sadness. He starts to walk back and forth as he says, more seriously, “That is, if being forced to turn your friend to prevent them from dying from an overdose counts?” There is just the barest hint of defensiveness in his tone.
Steve finds himself chuckling at Eddie's theatrics despite the morbid topic of conversation, and waves his hand. Honestly, he's not sure he needs to worry about what's socially acceptable to laugh at right now. “Sure it counts. Why the fuck not? I move that Eddie is allowed into the club.”
“I second the motion,” Billy says, sounding amused.
Eddie claps his hands together again, and Steve is beginning to find that little quirk endearing despite having seen it a total of two times. “Well, we can’t let a member of the club walk around like that.” At this he gestures at Steve’s… everything, and Steve does his best not to feel offended. “It’ll ruin our reputation. More than it already is, of course." He clears his throat. "Off to the shower with you, Harrington. Follow me.”
Belatedly, he turns to Billy. “Oh, you can stay if you want, but if you go make sure to lock the door behind you. I’ll be back in here after I get things set up for him.”
Billy shakes his head. "I oughtta get going. Max will freak if she notices I just up and left. I'll be right across the road, though." He gives a lingering look at Steve, which Steve blinks tiredly at, and then the screen door is banging shut behind him.
Steve follows Eddie when he walks away. After the emotional drain of explaining what went down at his house, he lets himself be guided to the shower without raising a fuss.
“I’ll leave some clothes out for you to change into. You’re roughly the same size as me. Maybe a little shorter and more muscular, but they should fit.” Eddie says, and Steve just nods. His words have abandoned him in this place beyond tiredness.
Hopefully he'll be able to use them again once Barb’s blood is off his hands.