Chapter Text
Freshly sixteen years old, Steve couldn’t remember the last time he was told I love you.
He didn’t think he was the type of person that could be loved or have anyone to love. Sure, he cared about Tommy H and Carol – they were a huge part of his life, how could he not – but he didn’t love them. The problem wasn’t that he didn’t have any love to give. No, Steve’s heart and soul were overflowing with love and care that he wanted to give to all the important people in his life. The problem is that in his sophomore year of high school, at the ripe age of sixteen, Steve has only felt loved by one person: Isabella Harrington.
Michael Harrington was a big name in the world of business. Since before their son was born, Michael was constantly traveling across the United States and even the world for his work. In the early years of their marriage, Isabella joined her husband, but once Isabella gave birth to little Stefano Emilio James Harrington, she did everything in her power to be the best mother she could be. With her husband gone, Isabella would teach her little Stef what it meant to be Italian. She shared her culture with her son, and he loved it. She would do his hair, teach him about the importance of a good skincare regimen, and show him how to cook pasta from scratch. She taught her Stef Italian before English, telling him what it was like to grow up in Venice and teaching him the same songs she learned when he was her age.
Steve never really saw his dad – he was always in Chicago or New York or Los Angeles. When he was in town, all Mr. Harrington wanted to do was dress up his son and parade him around the country club like a prize. He didn’t like his son in the kitchen. The kitchen was a woman's place, not a place for a Harrington man. Mainly, Mr. Harrington was distant and affectionless, only finding things about Steve to be disappointed in rather than proud of.
Sometimes it bothered Steve, like the times when he heard Tommy H talk about going to the park and his dad teaching him how to play catch. Other times, he didn’t really care. Steve was happy with his mamma. She loved him more than enough to make up for his dad’s absence and didn’t care about silly things like his dad’s approval. The way she fought for her son to keep helping her in the kitchen and letting him do the things he enjoyed made that immensely clear.
When he was nine, Isabella took her Stef back home to Venice with her to visit her family. He got to meet his Nona and she taught him even more recipes. His eyes sparkled with wonder and joy the entire summer. Stefano and Isabella returned to Hawkins, their freckled olive skin even darker and eyes bright. That summer was the happiest time of his life.
Upon their return, Little Stef, missing Venice, would count down the hours at school until he could go back into the kitchen to cook dinner with his mamma. The aromas that would fill the house as a result of their labors over the stove brought him back to his Nona’s kitchen in Venice. He missed his family, he missed the freedom he felt in Italy, he missed being able to talk in what by all means is his first language. He longed to return to Venice and leave Hawkins behind, but he knew it was impossible. Instead, Stef and his mother created their own tiny Italy inside the four walls of the Harrington home the two shared.
When he was ten, Isabella Harrington got diagnosed with stage four breast cancer.
Her Stef didn’t really know what that meant at first. He knew she was sick, but when she told him her soup wouldn’t cure it, he was confused. His mamma’s soup was magic – it could cure anything.
The few months that followed after were weird for Steve for many reasons. First off, his dad was consistently home for the first time in his life. Secondly, he and his mamma didn’t do as many of the things as they did together before. She was always out going to a place called a hospital to see doctors. One day, she had to leave the to go the hospital and didn't come back home. Then, a strange new lady called a nanny would come in a few times a week to watch Steve and help with dinner while his dad took him to visit his mamma at the hospital.
One day, a few months before turning eleven, Isabella Marie Harrington didn’t wake up from her slumber in Hawkins Memorial Hospital.
Her Stef finally understood what his mamma meant when she told him her soup couldn’t fix her sickness – nothing could.
The nanny stayed for the last two months that were left before school went out for summer. When summer came, Steve spent all of it with his grandparents at their beach house in Maine, his dad nowhere to be found.
When he returned to the Hawkins at the end of the summer, the nanny was gone and was not going to be replaced.
By Thanksgiving, his dad was engaged.
By Easter, Michael married Jessica and the Harringtons made the move to Loch Nora.
By the time Steve was twelve he had been living alone in a strange, new, empty house for close to four months. Stef didn’t matter anymore – no one knew of his existence – all that mattered was that Steve upheld the Harrington name. So, because he enjoyed the pool at the new house, he joined the swim team. When that wasn’t enough for his father, he added basketball into the mix.
By the time he was a freshman, Steve was one of the fastest swimmers in Hawkins. As a sophomore, he earned the title “King Steve” and held parties to fill the silence in that god forsaken crypt his father called a house.
He met Eddie Munson the second semester of his sophomore year. He was sixteen years old, Eddie seventeen.
At sixteen years old, Steve finally heard the words “I love you” for the first time since his mamma died.
Eddie Munson made Steve feel the same way Stef felt: loved, cherished, important. He met Wayne Munson that same spring, a consequence of spending more time at the Munson residence than his own home. Wayne was the first man that showed him even a semblance of care and the first man to make him feel safe. With the Musons, he felt loved. For those remaining months of his sophomore year and the summer before junior year, Steve was happy. It was the same happiness he felt during his summer in Italy.
One day, Mr. Harrington made a surprise visit to Loch Nora. A photo was out on Steve’s desk. A photo he would’ve hidden if he had any idea his dad and stepmom were coming back to town.
That day, Steve Harrington got his second concussion, and all his photos and anything that reminded him of how happy he was hidden away in a box under his bed.
After four days of radio silence, Eddie finally heard from his boyfriend. They were over.
Two weeks later, the next time Eddie saw Steve, summer was almost over, and Steve Harrington had a girl on his arm.
King Steve held his head up high in public, smiling wide, but when he returned to the solitude of the house, Stef felt utterly and completely alone, ashamed, and just plain sad. No matter how badly he wanted to, he couldn’t get the crestfallen expression he saw on Eddie’s face that day out of his head.
In October of his junior year, Steve asked out Nancy Wheeler because her eyes were familiar in a way he didn’t want to think about. After two dates he realized Nancy wasn’t like the other girls he dated through high school. He actually liked her.
Then, in November, Will Byers disappeared.
To impress Nancy, Steve decided to throw a stupid little party because that was all he seemed to be good for anymore. Somehow, it worked, and Steve got to enjoy a night filled with caring touches and feeling seen. Steve wasn’t happy yet, but he was excited because he could see a chance at happiness in his future for the first time since a certain someone. When Steve went to bed that night, there was a touch of a smile on his face – a real one.
The excitement of the night was quickly disrupted when Barb was nowhere to be found the next day. Steve couldn’t think of a reason anything bad could’ve happened and tried his best to keep Nancy in good spirits. He wanted to show her he cared and would be there for her like a good boyfriend, but he was also scared of his dad. He was already in deep enough shit – if Steve got in trouble with the law, he was dead. Steve felt like a cornered animal. When an animal feels trapped, they lash out.
Steve was trying to stay calm, but a girl came up to him to tell him about some weird photos of him and Nancy she saw Jonathan Byers developing. What was up with photos fucking him over? The rest of his cheery mood that remained drained, and he got mad. So, he broke Byers’s camera. Then Nancy started acting weird.
Scared for her wellbeing, he went to check on her one night only to find Nancy and Jonathan curled up on her bed in each other’s arms. That night, Steve went back home, pulled out his box of photos from under his bed, and cried as he looked back to see how happy he was. Steve fell asleep that night curled up on the floor by the foot of his bed sobbing and surrounded by pictures of the only person who said the words “I love you” since he was ten.
The next day passed in a red eyed blur. Steve didn’t remember telling Tommy and Carol about what he saw the night before. He didn’t remember going to the hardware store to buy red spray paint, and he didn’t remember how the words “Nancy ‘the slut’ Wheeler” got on the marque. The thing Steve did remember was being so angry at himself for what he did to Eddie that he spit out the same word his father called him that hot summer day. Steve wanted to hurt. He got the desired reaction, and Steve got his ass handed to him that day. He knew he deserved it, so he didn’t fight back. Steve knew he was a fuck up and a waste of space, and when he listened to Tommy and Carol’s venom filled words as he held a cold can of coke to his eye, he saw the image of Eddie’s tear-filled eyes flood his vision. He thought of the hurt he caused Eddie and now Nancy and just snapped.
“Carol for once in your life just shut your damn mouth!”
“What?”
“Hey, what’s your problem man?”
Images of the times like that day he just stood on the sidelines flashed through his head. Every time he turned the other way when Tommy shoved a kid into a locker or spat ugly words at them played like a movie in his head. “You’re both assholes . That’s my problem.”
So, Steve drove to the theater to scrub paint off the marque. He finished after the sun set and made his next stop on his apology tour: the Byers household. He didn’t go for forgiveness; he went because he couldn’t go on with his life without letting Jonathan know how sorry he was.
Nancy opened the door with a bloody hand, and after the creepy nature of the photos, Steve assumed the worst. He shoved his way through the door only to be staring down the barrel of a gun held by his maybe girlfriend – the whole calling her a slut thing made it kind of unclear. Then, the lights started flickering and a monster dropped out of the ceiling.
***
Will Byers is alive but the same can’t be said for Barbara Holland.
Steve doesn’t get to leave the hospital until well after two am: NDA signed, and concussion confirmed. He finally pulls into his house – bloody, scared, and armed with the weapon that saved his life – around three am. As usual, the silence is deafening. The only light in the house is coming from the backyard. Steve approaches the light, making his way through the living room and slides open the glass doors.
The pool’s light brightens up the back patio, but the woods remain pitch black. When he was younger, Steve was always warned of the dangers found in the woods behind his house. At seventeen, Steve knows the danger he faced didn’t come from the woods – it came out from his pool. His pool, where he practiced and relieved his stress even in winter, spent nights alone sitting on the edge with his feet in the water, and kissed his boyfriend in broad daylight and in darkness. He used to feel safe there.
The pool light is almost hypnotizing as it attempts to draw Steve closer. He drops the bat and finds himself on his knees, slowly creeping to the edge of the pool. His heart is hammering in his chest, and he can feel the thumping of his pulse all the way in his ears. When Steve reaches the edge of the pool, he peers over to look in the water. When he looks at the pool floor, Steve can only see the water turning red with blood and bubbles created from screams rising to the surface.
Trembles shred through his entire being. Out of the corner of his eye he sees branches sway from being jostled and can hear that same clicking noise from just a few hours ago. Bile rises in the back of his throat.
Steve knows he must be imagining things. Steve knows the Demogorgon – or whatever those kids called it – is gone, but all rationality has left his mind. Scrambling off the deck he runs back inside grabbing his bat. Steve slams the doors shut and closes the curtains, sending the house into complete darkness.
Despite the terror still running through his veins, Steve feels himself tire, the adrenaline his body pumped through his bloodstream in the heat of battle finally wearing off. Steve falls face down onto his bed, still clinging onto the handle of his bat. Before he is taken by sleep, all Steve can think is, I can’t believe I have school tomorrow.
***
Waking up for school the morning after fighting an interdimensional monster that can climb out of walls is a weird ass feeling – one Steve certainly never expected to feel. Normally, Steve wouldn’t be opposed to just skipping school but after all the excitement of the night before, Steve needs to see Nancy safe and sound. It’s the only thing that will ease his anxiety.
His head is pounding, and the edges of objects are just a little blurred. It’s a concussion. He’s had two before, something that concerned the doctors. They warned him to steer clear of anything that might cause head trauma in the future – a warning that seems pretty obvious to Steve. He gets it: head injuries are a no no. It’s not like he’s planning on getting his face pounded in again anytime soon.
He walks into the bathroom with the intention to take something for his head. He opens the medicine cabinet above the toilet and takes whatever painkiller he finds in there. Not entirely sure what kind of pain meds he grabbed, he just wants the throbbing of his head and the pulsing around his eye to stop. He goes to leave the bathroom but is distracted by the reflection he finds staring back at him.
When Steve sees his bruised face for the first time that day, he knows that it’s going to be the talk of the school because he looks like shit. He knew news of the fight would spread no matter what because, well, high school, but holy fucking shit. So much damage control is going to be needed here. His eye is swollen, he has a cut along the bridge of his nose, another through his eyebrow, and yet another under his lip. Steve is proven right when he opens the doors of school, and every head turns his direction. Steve hears the snickers and whispers of “Byers did that?” and “apparently he and Tommy H fought right after too.” He keeps his head and eyes trained down because Steve really doesn’t want to listen to people gossip about him getting his face pounded in. He has bigger problems: monsters are real and a girl died in his pool.
He finds Nancy at her locker, talking to Jonathan. “Hey,” he greets.
Jonathan nods his head in return as Nancy murmurs a quiet, “Hi.”
The tension in the air is so thick that Steve could cut through it with a knife. “Can I talk to you guys?” he asks, running his hand over the back of his head. They both nod and he leads them outside to the picnic table behind the cafeteria. The three newly certified monster hunters sit down.
“What did you want to talk about, Steve?” Nancy asks.
Taking a deep breath, Steve begins the apology he wanted to give yesterday. “I just wanted to apologize to both of you. I messed up – like, really messed up. I am so sorry about the paint and not stopping Tommy. I don’t even know how it happened, the entire day was kind of a blur, but that’s not an excuse. And Jonathan I shouldn’t have said what I did about you and your family. That was really fucked up and I’m so fucking sorry.” Silence. “I wasn’t able to apologize to you guys like I planned last night, so I’m doing it now.”
“Steve-,” Nancy starts
She is quickly cut off by Steve continuing, “I understand if you want nothing to do with me now or if you don’t want to forgive me, but I needed to tell you both how sorry I am anyways.”
“Steve, you saved our lives last night,” she began. His eyes shot up from where they were looking at his hands to meet her face. “We have a lot to talk about, but I don’t want you out of my life.”
A wave of relief rushes through him. Regardless of the relief that flows through his veins, Jonathan is still silent. Steve glances over at Jonathan to see if he can decipher what he’s thinking. He can’t. So, he waits for the words to come from the man himself. “Thank you for the apology. Nancy’s right though, you did save our lives. I don’t know if it’s because we got Will back or I lost all the ability to be angry right now, but I think I forgive you.” Those words make that last little bit of tension leave Steve’s body. “Honestly,” Steve perks up at this, “I think I took out all my anger on your face yesterday. Sorry about that by the way.”
He huffs out a laugh, “Don’t be,” he reassures. “I deserved it. Probably deserved worse.”
Jonathan shrugs as if to say, ‘what can you do?’ and the silence that falls on the three isn’t tense like it was before.
The rest of the day carried on how it started: whispers of Steve’s face and fall out with Tommy filling the halls. When it was time for lunch Steve didn’t sit with Tommy. The rumor mill blew up, only Steve couldn’t find it within himself to care.
Sure, Tommy H was his closest friend since childhood. They grew up together. He knew Steve when Steve was still getting a grasp on English. When Steve joined the swim team, Tommy H followed him. When Steve joined basketball, Tommy H did too. High school and the popularity that came with it changed things. Steve was popular which meant Tommy H was too by proxy. Tommy H became his shadow, following him in whatever he did. But then, Tommy H became an asshole and a bully. Steve was lonely as fuck though and had no one else, so he stuck by Tommy and just ignored the shitty things he did. Did it pain Steve to see Tommy talk to other kids the same way his dad talks to him? Absolutely. He hated it so much, but it was either put up with Tommy or have no one. Steve didn’t want to be alone. He was scared of being alone.
Now? Steve doesn’t even want to be in the same room as that asshole none the less be connected to him as his best friend. He cut Tommy off and the world – Hawkins High – went nuts.
Steve didn’t care though. He just kept walking, passing all the other tables in the cafeteria, until he was outside. Alone.
Steve goes to basketball practice that afternoon. Before his hand can even touch the locker room door, Steve’s coach calls out to him.
The hospital called the school about his concussion. He’s benched for the week.
Seeming to become a common theme, he can’t find it within himself to care. Steve leaves the gym just to drive back home to his empty house. Running on autopilot, Steve cooks dinner, takes a shower, and goes to bed. Then, it all repeats. The rest of the week continues the same way: wake up, go to school, go home, eat dinner, shower, sleep. By the end of the week, Nancy and Steve talk things out. Steve feels relief that he is forgiven and vows to make up for his mistakes. Whatever it takes.
***
It’s a full week before it happens. He isn’t entirely sure why it has taken a week. He knew they were coming. Something almost primal within himself was blaring the alarm that the temporary peace he was getting at night wouldn’t last forever. After everything he saw, Steve knew he would suffer the consequences in his dreams, he just didn’t expect them to feel so real.
Unsurprisingly, the first thing that appears in his dreams is the backyard. Illuminated by the blue light, the backyard takes on a strange sort of calm. Steam rises off the water like a hot spring in winter. The cold November air whips around, rattling the trees in the woods behind the house and causing them to lose the last of their leaves. Sitting on the diving board is none other than Barbara Holland. She appears from a distance, causing Steve to realize where he is.
His ugly blue plaid wallpaper and matching curtains surrounds him. He can feel the chill from his wet hair and clothes after jumping into that very same pool not even ten minutes before. The weight of Nancy’s body engulfs his entire being from behind as he looks out the window.
It’s different than before. This time, Steve can’t seem to look away. It’s because he’s frozen that Steve realizes it’s not real, he’s in a dream. Eyes focused solely on Barb and his pool; his expression turns sour. He could’ve saved her. If only he wasn’t so distracted by Nancy, Steve could’ve saved Barb or at least tried. Anxiety begins to bubble beneath his skin. As Steve keeps his eyes trained on her, he notices that something is off.
Barb’s hair was kinda curly sure but nothing like this. Her hair was also red, not dark brown.
It starts with the hair, but it doesn’t end there.
Wide framed glasses disappear from her face, the blue coat morphs into a leather jacket with ripped black jeans and a denim vest. Those god damn white Reeboks that would be meticulously cleaned with a toothbrush any time a scuff or a single speck of dirt appeared replaces Barb’s own shoes. Barbara Holland disappears, Eddie Munson taking her place.
Steve can’t speak. No matter how hard he tries, no sound comes out of his mouth. Open wide, screaming, no sound. The feel of bile rising up the back of his throat hits him. He has never in his life felt this much guttural terror. Everything about this is just so wrong. He needs to get Eddie out of there – he needs to save him. Steve’s lost him once; he won’t lose him again.
He raises his fists, banging on the window because if sound won’t come out of his mouth, maybe he can make some noise in a different way.
Rattling under the pressure of his fist, the window feels like it will shatter at any moment. Eddie doesn’t even so much as turn his head; he remains on the diving board, holding his bleeding hand, and staring into the pool that Steve knows is going to swallow him whole. It’s not supposed to be like this. Eddie shouldn’t be here. Eddie needs to leave, to live. The taste of copper floods his taste buds, his throat raw from the primal screams he is letting loose that make no noise. His eyes are burning. Arm winding back, fist formed, Steve is moving with the intention to break through the glass. Before his fist can move towards its target, Steve feels a hand wrap around his wrist. It’s Nancy’s. He turns around to see her shirtless and shy. His banging and screams have gone completely unnoticed by everyone but himself. Face scrunched up in confusion, he is pulled away from the window.
Next thing he knows, Steve is on the bed with Nancy. Her hands roaming his body. He wants to jump out of bed and run outside to yank Eddie away from the pool. He wants to start thrashing against her hold, but his body is no longer under his own control. Steve starts kissing Nancy, nuzzling along her throat, his body pressing hers into the mattress as he weaves their fingers together. Steve is trapped in his own body, and no matter how much he struggles and screams to go back to Eddie, his body won’t budge. Screams echo off the walls of his skull. His skin is on fire and crawling with anxiety. Sobs are trapped in his throat, screaming to come out. He's useless. No matter how hard he tries, Steve is useless to prevent the impending terror that is about to be unleashed upon Eddie. It isn’t until the screams in his head go silent, replaced by the little whimpers and moans of the girl underneath him, that he realizes the screams he was hearing in his head were not his own nor in his head: they were Eddie’s.
Steve wakes up on the floor, clothes doused in sweat, and throat raw. Shooting upright, his hands scramble for something, anything to hold onto. Blunt nails claw at his neck, he feels blood rise to the surface, the first layer of skin making a new home beneath his nails. Sharp red lines paint their presence onto his skin. Everything feels too small, his skin, his clothes, the room. Eddie’s screams are echoing in his mind. His tears are streaming down his face uncontrollably, sobs bouncing off the plaid walls of his bedroom joined with screams of anguish loud enough to be heard from any room in the house.
One plus side of an empty house? Steve doesn’t have to worry about anyone hearing his screams.
No one questions when he shows up to school wearing a turtleneck for the next few days.
It took a week for the nightmares to start but it takes a month before he goes another night without one.
***
Steve is stressed. He feels like he is losing his mind. Ever since a monster dropped out of the Byers’s ceiling, he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep. A tuliped mouth opening wide, slobbering uncontrollably, those razor-sharp teeth ready to tear him to pieces at a single moment haunt his nightmares. Sure, the ones where he is back in the Byers’s living room swinging his bat but misses suck. Obviously, they fucking suck, he dies in them, but the worst ones are the ones where dark curly hair replaces red and a leather jacket replaces a wool coat. There isn’t a day that goes by where he doesn’t remember the terror that filled his body when the lights started to flicker.
Sleepless nights aren’t new for Steve, he has dealt with insomnia before, but he always had his pool to swim in to relieve stress and calm his racing brain. So much for that. Now, he can’t even so much as glance at his pool without his heart racing and being sent back to that night. Steve can’t go to bed anymore if even a tiny shred of that blue light is visible through the curtains. The thought of that pool sends such raw panic through his body he doesn’t think he will ever be able to look at it again, none the less get back in it.
That’s why Steve is stripping on the shore of Lover’s Lake at an hour so late it crosses the boundary into too early.
He throws his clothes on top of his backpack holding his towel and his bat. It’s only the second weekend in March. The snow and ice just finished melting, but nonetheless Steve finds himself in only his swim trunks wading into the frigid water. The icy cold water sends a shock through his system, but Steve finds himself welcoming it as he dives in. Steve loses himself as he swims laps from one side of the lake to the next. For once, his head is quiet. Swimming always did that – quieted his thoughts – and with everything that happened this past year, he needs relief from them.
Here's the thing: Nancy is smart. She is so smart, and she helps Steve just by sitting at his side, but Nancy is grieving her best friend. Steve doesn’t know what he’s grieving – his popularity? His friendship with Tommy H? No. Steve knows he has nothing to grieve. He knows he shouldn’t be complaining and looking for comfort in Nancy when she just lost her best friend. So, he isn’t going to burden her with his problems - problems he shouldn't be having in the first place; problems he doesn't have the right to have.
Steve knows he is a burden. His father has made that clear since day one – and he’s seen how his presence, his existence, weighs people down. He won’t do that to Nancy, he can’t do that. So… Steve has been silent in his struggles. Nancy doesn’t know he comes out to Lover’s Lake to swim at early hours of the morning – occasionally multiple times a week – or how sometimes he can’t sleep unless he cracks open his dad’s liquor cabinet. No one knows, most certainly his father who couldn’t care enough to stay in Hawkins long enough to notice some of the bottles inside the cabinet are empty.
It's not even that he wants to get drunk. To be honest, Steve isn’t even the biggest fan of the feeling he gets when he is drunk. Steve drinks because sometimes if he drinks enough he will fall into a dreamless sleep. The hangovers the next morning aren’t ideal, but he just puts on his Ray-bans to keep his headache at bay and everyone else thinks he’s embracing the persona that has been thrusted upon him.
So, yeah. He can’t sleep.
So, tonight, given the choice of an alcohol induced coma or swimming, Steve chose to swim.
It clears his head. For once, the voice in his head is quiet. The terror that has set up camp in his bones is doused by the bone chilling lake water. He doesn’t know how many laps he swims or how long he is in the lake, but he doesn’t even consider getting out of the water until he sees the tips of his fingers begin to turn blue.
He doesn’t want to, but Steve finally relents and heads back to shore. Steve gets out of the water, grabs his towel, and starts to dry off so he doesn’t get hypothermia and die in that cold house of his. Trying to fend off the cold chill filtering through the air, he puts on his sweater and sweatpants after removing his freezing shorts. He moves to grab his backpack when a familiar voice hits his ears, “Harrington?”
He freezes.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Aren’t you a little far from your castle?” the same voice spits out.
Steve gathers his courage and turns to look at the source of the voice. Dark curls appear in his field of vision. Allowing himself to look at the person he refuses to look at daily, Steve sees how much longer the curls are now. What was once just passing his ears is now reaching his shoulders. The owner of said curls is leaning against a tree, arms crossed, staring right at him. The moonlight shines down on him, illuminating his features. “Eddie?” he whispers in the softest voice he thinks has ever come out of his mouth. So much for silencing my thoughts.
A sharp laugh cuts through the silence. “What? Has it really been so long you forgot what my voice sounds like? Or did King Steve just try to make himself forget about the first boy he kissed?” The voice is so venomous Steve flinches. His grip on his backpack tightens until his knuckles turn white. “What are you doing here?” He glances towards the handle of the bat that is sticking out of his backpack, “Come to take out some anger?”
Steve just stares at him, mouth agape, mind buzzing like static on a TV. One word repeating in his head: fuck, fuck, fuck. He tries to make sound come out but even if he could, he has no idea what he would say.
That’s a lie.
Steve knows exactly what he wants to say to him, he just can’t get his mouth to move.
“Fine,” the voice interrupts. “You don’t want to say why you’re here then I’ll just-”
“I was swimming.” Wow. Nice one Harrington. Real smooth.
Eddie arches his eyebrow. Steve feels eyes rake over his body, Eddie just now noticing Steve’s wet hair and towel slung over his shoulder. “I can see that,” he answers, but his confusion only increases because, “You have a pool. Why are you here?”
Steve feels his mood drop even lower. The sounds of Eddie’s screams ricochet off the walls of his skull, bouncing around like an excited child. Any tension he released while swimming in the lake quickly returns. Sensing the change in atmosphere, Eddie’s expression softened just a tad, but Steve remained oblivious to the softening demeanor. His head is somewhere else and his eyes trained toward his own feet. Fearful and unable to gather the courage to look at him, Steve answers, “I couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t be in that house anymore.” His voice is so small.
Eddie slumps against the tree taken completely aback by the honesty coming from the boy who broke his heart. Steve finally raises his head into the moonlight enough for Eddie to get a good look. He notices how different Steve looks. There are dark circles under his eyes, his cheekbones and jawline sharper like he’s lost weight, and his eyes bloodshot. He looks like shit. Eddie feels his face fall – yeah, he was angry. He is angry, but he’s also never seen someone look so broken and small. Something inside Steve changed after the fight with Byers, everyone at Hawkins High knows it. Sure, he stopped being such a pretentious asshole by ditching Tommy, but there was something else to it. Something no one knows about. Whatever that something else is, Eddie is pretty sure he is bearing witness to the destruction it caused at this very moment. “Steve-”
“Anyways, what are you doing here?” Steve doesn’t want to think about the reason he is wet from swimming at Lovers Lake around four am after being out here for at least an hour and a half. Eddie has always had a way of getting him to spill all his secrets. If Eddie keeps asking questions, Steve knows he will say so much more than he should, and he doesn’t have the mental strength now to even begin getting into the reason he’s there. Not to mention, legally, he can’t. He signed an NDA.
Steve wasn’t expecting an answer. In all honesty, Steve expected the older boy to scowl at him and walk the other direction. “Staying at Rick’s for a few days to watch the house while he restocks.” Eddie rattles the small metal lunchbox Steve never noticed him holding. “I just felt like having a smoke by the lake.”
“You still selling?”
Eddie confirms it with a confused “Yeah, why?”
It’s stupid. Steve knows it’s stupid, but he can’t stop himself from asking anyways, “Have anything for sleep?”
Eddie chokes on air, “What?”
Steve’s hand shoots up to his hair. “Sleeping pills. I can’t sleep, Eddie. I can’t even remember the last time I got a full night’s sleep. I just…I don’t know I-” So much for not spilling secrets.
“Steve…” Eddie cut him off. Steve looks over at him like a deer caught in headlights. Steve is being haunted by something. The haunting of Steve Harrington is a mystery Eddie desperately wants to solve, but Harrington made it clear a long time ago that he doesn’t want anything to do with Eddie. It is not his problem to solve, so no matter how curious he is, Eddie isn’t going to try to find out, but he knows how much of a slippery slope sleeping pills are. And yeah, he sells them, but there’s no way in hell he would ever let Steve go down that path. Before he could say any more, he sees Steve’s expression shift for what seems like the tenth time tonight.
“Never mind,” Steve insists. “Forget I said anything. It’s stupid.”
Steve turns around and takes his first step away from Eddie, “Steve wait,” and Eddie takes his first step towards Steve. Steve freezes but Eddie doesn’t. When he’s close enough to touch, Eddie reaches out to touch Steve’s shoulder. When his hand makes contact, Steve flinches. He legitimately flinches. Eddie recoils his hand out of shock and Steve’s already wide eyes get wider. His face drops even farther into despair, eyes glossing over with tears waiting to fall.
“I’m sorry for ruining your night.” A deep shuddering breath echoes through the woods. Steve hurts . His chest aching something awful and so tight he can’t breathe. “I’m so-” his voice breaks as does the damn holding back all his tears. Now it’s Eddie’s turn to feel his eyes burn. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I’m sorry for everything. I never – I never wanted – I never meant things for to end up like this.”
Eddie’s brown eyes meet Steve’s hazel. Tears fill Steve’s eyes and despite everything - despite how broken Steve looks, despite how angry Eddie is - Eddie can’t help but think he’s still so beautiful.
Eddie wants to tell him. Throat aching with the need to say something, anything to get Steve to stay and let him help. It hits Eddie hard that this is the first time he has ever seen Steve cry. Steve who always put on such a strong front, who hid his sadness and fear under false smiles. All the anger and fury from five minutes ago left Eddie only to be replaced by such a twisted feeling that whatever is haunting Steve won’t be stopping anytime soon, and it’s something so much bigger than he could ever imagine.
Before Eddie could utter another syllable, Steve Harrington turned his tear-filled face away from Eddie’s and ran back to his car.
Steve didn’t realize what he was doing until he was already back in his car. Of all the things he would’ve guessed could happen, running into his ex and asking him for sleeping pills during one of his routine cry for help swims was not anywhere near that list.
Steve pulls up to his house still shaken from the encounter. The look on Eddie’s face is burned into his eyelids. He looked, dare Steve say it, concerned. He knows he must be imagining things. Eddie has no reason to be concerned for him anymore – he hasn’t had a reason for coming up on a year now. What did make sense was the anger and disgust he saw reflecting in those doe eyes. Eddie was so angry. Steve knows he has a reason to be angry – he brought this upon himself – but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt to see it directed right at him.
Steve grabs his backpack from the passenger seat and unlocks the front door. He walks down the hallway and up the stairs to his bedroom. Every time Steve enters his room, he sees the absence of anything that expresses his own likes and personality.
The plaid wallpaper that surrounds him makes him want to tear it off his walls. Sports trophies line the shelves, and the only images that decorate the walls are of a stupid car and Phoebe Cates. His room has been the same since they moved in, the only change being the addition of Phoebe Cates. His room was thrown together by some interior designer, like all the other rooms in the house, using what they thought a teenage boy would love.
Like the rest of the house, there are no pictures of him and his parents on the walls. There are no happy photos of trips to the zoo or Steve and his dad at his first basketball game or Steve and both his parents happy at the beach. The reason there aren’t photos of these happy moments is because they don’t exist.
All of Steve’s happiest memories of his childhood take place solely with his mamma. His father was never there. His mamma took so many pictures of her little Stef – pictures of the two of them in the kitchen – covered in flour – making pasta, the two of them in Venice, Stef in a face mask, and Stef just curled up on the couch with his favorite blankie. Steve remembers those pictures so well, but they’re all gone. The only ones he has left are the few he packed himself. The rest? Lost in the move his dad told him.
Now, the only photos he has that reminds him of a good time – a happy time – are hidden under his bed. They are memories too precious to taint with the dull, impersonal state of his bedroom. They are memories his dad would rather die than admit they made his son happy.
He keeps them safe. He keeps them hidden.
By now, it’s bordering on five am. There’s no use in even attempting to sleep – he needs to be at school in three hours.
In all honesty, Steve is still reeling from his interaction with Eddie. His house might be silent, but his mind isn’t. Steve has a temporary solution. It’s a solution he has been avoiding even thinking about. He’s with Nancy now - it almost feels like betraying her - but after seeing Eddie again, after talking to Eddie again, he can’t get it out of his mind.
Steve loves Nancy. He does. He really does, so why can’t he get Eddie out of his head? Why does he find himself craving Eddie's calloused hands instead of Nancy’s soft and smooth ones. Why is it Eddie's scent of cigarette smoke and leather and something so distinctly Eddie that feels more like home than Nancy’s floral perfume ever has?
Steve loves Nancy but he might love Eddie more.
Steve loves Nancy but something in him doesn’t know if she loves him.
Steve loves Nancy but he misses being loved by Eddie.
He shakes the thoughts from his head and walks into his bathroom to shower. Steve wants to let the scalding hot water wash away his anxieties. He wants the thoughts of Eddie plaguing his mind to leave him. He wants to not feel guilty when he looks into Nancy’s eyes and sees Eddie’s reflecting back because Steve loves Nancy. He can see them building a life together, a family large enough to fill the silence the walls of this house keep him imprisoned in.
He lathers his shampoo into his hair and lets the familiar scent of coconut take over his senses. Steve knows it's all in his head but he swears he can smell sandalwood, weed, and cigarettes under the coconut of his shampoo and conditioner.
The hot water flows over his body, soothing his tense muscles and taking the chill in his bones left over from the swim away - the goosebumps finally settling back beneath his skin. The hot water washes away the cold from his being, but it leaves behind the same itch in his brain just screaming for Steve to scratch.
He knows he doesn’t really want to stop thinking about Eddie. Steve knows that he won’t ever be able to stop thinking about him no matter how much time has passed. The fact that he saw Eddie tonight only brought his thoughts of the metalhead that are always buzzing around in the background to the forefront of his mind.
Fuck it.
Steve shuts off the shower and exits the bathroom to put on a pair of clean boxers and sweatpants, forgoing the shirt.
For the first time since he got together with Nancy, Steve let himself pull out the old nike box from under his bed. His hands are shaking as he opens it for the first time in months. There is a stack of polaroids and photos he took to Indy to get developed. Next to the photos is a silver ring with a small black stone in the middle, drive-in stubs, a bandana, and cassette tapes. Steve goes straight for the cassette tapes. There are five of them total. The one Steve grabs is different from the rest. On the cover is hand drawn hearts and Concert for Stevie written on the front.
With a large inhale, Steve grabs the cassette and his walkman and throws them on his bed. He turns all his lights off - curtains already drawn.
Climbing under the covers, Steve puts the cassette into his walkman. He places the headphones carefully over his ears, walkman clenched in his hand, and thumb hovering over the play button. Curling up in the fetal position on his side, covers pulled up to his chin, surrounded by darkness, Steve finally presses play.
A single cord rings out on an acoustic before
“I can dim the lights and sing you songs
full of sad things
We can do the tango just for two.
I can serenade and gently play
On your heartstrings
Be your valentino just for you”
Instead of the high, smooth voice of Freddy Mercury, a deeper and slightly raspier voice fills his ears. Steve can hear the quietest rustling of movement in the background, a sure sign it’s home recorded nature.
“ Ooh, love, ooh, loverboy
What’re you doin’ tonight, hey, boy?
Set my alarm, turn on my charm
That’s because I’m a good old-fashioned loverboy.”
This was their song - the song that played the moment Steve realized he had fallen completely, fully, and utterly in love with Eddie Munson. That warm March morning marked the first time Steve Harrington fell in love, and when Steve Harrington is in love, he loves with all of his being.
That song made Steve realize the little crush he had been harboring on his friend was not little at all and not just a crush, and when they finally got together he told Eddie such. That song came to mean a lot to the two young boys.
As Eddie’s voice rings through his ears, Steve’s mind finally begins to settle. His guilt has been placed on the backburner, and he lets himself melt into his sheets from the heat of the voice now engulfing his entire being. He feels the deep, slightly raspy voice everywhere in him - in his bones, in his fingertips, in his toes.
Eddie’s voice brings Steve back to the day he was given the tape.
The two boys are laying in bed, the early morning sun shining through the thin curtains covering Eddie’s window. When Steve blinks awake, it’s in lithe arms and to a beam of sunlight bouncing off the highpoints of Eddie’s face. In this moment, his expression relaxed in a peaceful bliss, Eddie looks like an angel. His hair is wild, like it always is in the morning, with the light bouncing off of it, making every strand visible and perfect. Eddie’s hair is so much more than just dark brown - it is a deep brown with highlights of a striking black with strands of a dark gold woven through so seamlessly Steve can’t tell where one color begins and the other ends. Eddie is laying on his side, arms wrapped around Steve’s torso, their legs tangled together.
All Steve wants to do at this moment is press a million kisses to every spot he can on Eddie’s face. He tilts his head up to do just that.
The first kiss is to the tip of Eddie’s nose - a spot that makes Eddie giggle every time without fail whenever he’s awake. At the feeling of a kiss being pressed to the tip of his nose, Eddie scrunches up his nose for a second before relaxing his expression back to the same peaceful bliss as before.
Steve’s next targets are the metalhead’s eyelids. Then his cheekbones, his forehead, his chin, until finally Steve presses the lightest kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Steve ducks his head back under the chin of his boyfriend, nuzzling into his neck to soak up his scent and warmth.
“You missed.”
He lifts his head back up to look at Eddie. Eddie is smirking but keeps his eyes closed. “Good morning sleepyhead.”
“Not good yet,” he groans.
With a laugh, Steve asks, “And why is that?”
“You missed,” was his simple response.
Steve rolls his eyes with a level of fondness that he never thought possible. Closing his eyes, Steve leans forward and presses a kiss to Eddie’s lips. He feels the metalhead’s smile grow against his lips, Eddie’s hand rising from Steve’s torso to cradle his face. Eddie returns the kiss with a laziness only found in mornings like these. Despite the languidness of the kiss, neither boy doubts the love that is behind it. The two pull away and press their foreheads together.
“ Now it’s a good morning.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Steve insists.
Eddie hums, “Maybe so, but you love me.”
“That I do,” he confirms. Steve opens his eyes, and for the first time that day his hazel eyes meet the deep brown of the man he loves.
Eddie rolls onto his back, taking Steve with him. In their new position, Steve’s body is covering Eddie’s with his face nestled in his boyfriend’s chest. Eddie lazily draws shapes on Steve’s back while the two bask in the morning sun streaming through the window and the sound of birds chirping.
“Stevie?”
He hums.
“I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh?” Steve asks, head lifting to meet Eddie’s eyes.
“Mhmm.”
Steve props his head up on his hands, using Eddie’s chest as a surface. “Can I have my surprise now?”
“That will require you to get off of me, baby.” Steve pouts. “Don’t be like that. Do you want your surprise or not?” he laughs.
Steve groans in response and much to his dismay, rolls off of Eddie. His eyes follow his boyfriend, admiring his shirtless torso and the way his pajama pants hang dangerously low off his hips, as Eddie makes his way across his bedroom to reach into the top drawer of his dresser. Hiding the surprise behind his back, Steve is unable to see what he is holding. Eddie walks back over and kneels on the bed in front of Steve. Steve takes this as his hint to sit up - sitting criss cross applesauce on Eddie’s bed. Looking at his face, Steve notices that Eddie looks nervous. “Everything okay, Eds?”
He takes a deep breath and nods. Eddie removes the present from behind his back and presents it to Steve. It’s a cassette tape with ‘Concert for Stevie’ written on the front, surrounded with little hearts.
Steve is overwhelmed with affection, knowing just how much music means to Eddie. The feeling of Eddie giving him a mixtape is one of the best feelings in the world for Steve. It doesn’t matter that this isn’t the first mixtape he’s been given; Steve knows that no matter how many mixtapes he receives from Eddie they will never stop causing the swell of his heart.
“Can I listen to it now?”
Eddie still seems nervous - Steve doesn’t know why. Eddie knows that even if Steve doesn’t like a metal song that he throws in there, Steve loves the mixtapes Eddie makes for him with all his heart. After a moment, Eddie takes a deep breath and nods.
Steve stands up from the bed and walks over to the cassette player. Slotting the cassette into place, he presses play and leans against the wall by the player to listen.
Steve is expecting a power cord or heavy drums, what he isn’t expecting is the strum of an acoustic and hearing his favorite song being sung by the man he loves more than anything else.
Eddie’s voice singing the first verse to “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” washes over his entire being. Steve’s head whips around to look at Eddie who is twiddling his thumbs and concentrating very hard on his hands. The affection and love that Steve felt just moments before multiplies tenfold. Steve is so overcome with love for this man he can hardly breathe.
“Eddie,” he breathes out, “did you -”
“I know how much you love this song, and you always seem to enjoy it when I just pick at my guitar when we are together, so I just thought that maybe you would like a little concert.” Eddie barely glances at Steve. When he sees Steve’s shocked expression, he mistakes the emotion behind Steve's shock. He looks back down at his hand, “It was stupid, I’m sor-”
Steve moves to kneel in front of Eddie at the foot of the bed faster than he thinks he has ever moved before. “Eddie, baby, no. Don’t be sorry.” When Eddie doesn’t respond Steve places his hand on his boyfriend’s cheek. “Eds, look at me.” He does. “This is the nicest and most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.” Eddie’s eyes widen. “It’s perfect. I love it so much.” His eyes soften and grimace fades into a soft smile at those words. “I love you so much.”
Any remaining tension and nervousness left in Eddie’s body retreats, his face relaxing into a peaceful and loving expression. “Thank god. I was so nervous that you would hate it and think -” before Eddie can finish that thought, Steve cuts him off with a kiss.
The kiss is soft but full of so much love it's borderline nauseating. Their mouths move together in the perfect dance they fall into so often as Eddie’s deep voice floods the bedroom of the trailer. When the two boys pull away, they are both out of breath and dizzy with the love that they feel for each other. They press their foreheads together, breathing the same air and living in the same little pocket of reality.
“You know, there's more than just one song on that tape. I promised a concert.”
“Is that so?” Eddie hums in response. As if on cue, “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” fades into “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You.” The song choice makes Steve laugh: it’s a textbook sappy love song. “Who would’ve thought the big bad metalhead is just a sap afterall?”
Eddie grabs Steve by his shirt, well Eddie’s shirt, and flips him onto the bed, boxing Steve’s head in with his forearms. “Take that back. There’s plenty of metal on there!”
“Sure there is, buddy,” he teases with a smirk.
“We are only on the second song!”
“You keep telling yourself that babe.”
“Oh shut up, you,” he tells his boyfriend with absolutely no malice to be found in his voice.
“Why don’t you make me, loverboy?” Steve retorts, smirk taking over his face
Eddie does.
For once, the memory of Eddie and what he used to have doesn’t hurt Steve.
For once, it brings him nothing but joy and comfort.
For once, in a very long time, Steve lays in his bed with a smile on his face.