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The thing is, Steve can be brave.
He’ll throw himself into danger to save his friends. He’ll take the hits and he’ll get back up after because goddammit, he has a job to do.
It doesn’t scare him, sacrificing for his friends. In fact, it doesn’t even really feel brave. It was just… well, they’re the people Steve loves most in the world, and if something were to happen to them—
He doesn’t like to think about that. It doesn’t matter. In this way, Steve is brave.
But in so, so many other ways, he’s a total coward – like back at school, when he watched Tommy pick on everyone else and did nothing.
Which is fine, he’s fine with it. It’s just another line in a long list of things he hates about himself. And that’s okay too because he’s working on it. Like right now, as he sits on the hood of his car with none other than Eddie Munson, trying his best to muster the courage to ask him out.
Eddie’s gay. He’d told Steve, after he told Robin. Steve had even been brave enough to tell Eddie he was bisexual. It was a nice moment; Eddie’s eyebrows had skyrocketed as he managed to tell Steve he couldn’t believe someone like him wasn’t straight, let alone knew a word like bisexual. It shifted things between them – in a good way. It just suddenly seemed easier. In a way, they both knew one of the scariest things about each other.
It was something that served to unite them. Eddie and Steve had gone from cautious friends – both unsure if they could like one another – to next to inseparable.
And then—
Well, when Eddie came out to Steve, he’d already started getting feeling for him. He couldn’t help it. The way Eddie smiled – the dimples – his shit music, the way he dressed, spoke, was. It’s intoxicating. Not to mention the stream of pet names Eddie has decided to use for him.
Sue him, Steve likes strongheaded people with big personalities. He has a type.
He’s not sure if Eddie feels the same way. Robin seems to think yes. She’s at the point where she won’t even hear about it anymore. She calls Steve a nightmare, tells him not to be a coward and take a goddamn chance.
So, he’s trying to.
It’s a perfect moment, isn’t it?
The sun is setting over the quarry and they’ve got a six pack of beers between them. The air is warm – it’s getting close to autumn, but the afternoons are still blissfully summery. The hours have passed slowly, warmly, as they’ve sat talking idly about everything and nothing all at once.
Steve’s almost positive that they’ve having a moment. They have to be. If this was with a girl, they’d be kissing already. It’d be called a date.
So, he clears his throat, studying the side profile of Eddie, bathed in orange glow.
“Hey, uh, Munson?”
Eddie turns to look at him, already smiling. It’s his prettiest one – soft, small.
Just for Steve.
It’s the smile Eddie uses when he calls Steve sweetheart or big boy.
“I, uh, I don’t know how to say this,” Steve says slowly, trying to get the words right. “But, uh, what would you think about doing this properly?”
Confusion pinches Eddie’s eyebrows together. “Properly? Is there a right way to do this?”
And yes, sure. Steve was maybe too vague. Fair enough.
“I more meant… y’know. With candles. I could make you dinner after. I’m a good cook,” Steve explains, embarrassed as his voice falters slightly.
The confusion doesn’t leave. “Are you… asking me out on a date?” Eddie asks, head tilting.
Steve swallows around nothing, stomach flipping. He’s not sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this. It was—well, he knows what he wanted – he wanted Eddie to say yes. Maybe get the feeling Eddie was interested.
This doesn’t feel like interest. This feels like an executioner preparing to swing.
“If you want,” Steve says, and he can hear his heart pounding in his ears.
Eddie doesn’t move. Eddie doesn’t even blink. The sight of him being so fully still is foreign. Eddie is never still – never.
So, what the fuck is this?
The silence drags, and the feeling of butterflies turns to dread, curling sharply in Steve’s stomach.
“I—” Steve starts, thinking of some way to remedy the situation.
Eddie smiles, but it isn’t kind. “Sometimes, when I look at you,” he cuts in, voice a million degrees colder than before, “I still see King Steve. You’re so different, I almost forget.” He says it like he’s almost talking to himself. “You’re, well, you’re not him but… I guess underneath it all…” Eddie pauses, eyes meeting Steve’s. “I guess a tiger that changes its stripes is still a tiger.”
Steve’s never been good with metaphors, and Eddie’s words make his head spin but… well, it isn’t good, is it?
“I kinda… I guess I thought better of you.” Eddie says, and yep, the executioner has swung.
It’s a dead hit, as well.
“Oh.” Is what Steve says, because it’s all he can say.
Eddie’s gaze returns to the sunset and even like this – when he’s ripping out Steve’s heart like it’s nothing – he’s still so beautiful.
A silence permeates between them, no longer comfortable. It digs into Steve’s skin, tears him apart slowly. Relishes it.
“You can take me home, now.” Eddie says eventually, sliding off the hood of Steve’s car.
The drive back to Eddie’s is dead silent, and Steve finds he can’t even look at him anymore. He figures he must be in shock, because otherwise he’d have to be reacting more.
This hurts.
He knows that.
He thought he and Eddie were… moving toward something. How could he not, with the pet names, and the gestures, and the long drives.
Fuck, he’s stupid.
Desperate.
That’s what he is.
He’s desperate, and Eddie doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want him.
Which is fine, he doesn’t have to. But did he have to… God, did he have to say the rest of it?
Steve parks in front of Eddie’s government-issued home – small, and a little decrepit, and Steve loves it. Or loved it. Maybe – and Eddie doesn’t say a word as he gets out. Doesn’t look back at the car and he goes inside. He’s gone, just like that. Feeling starts bleeding back into Steve as he sits in his idling car. Then, all at once, his eyes are filled with tears.
Fuck.
He throws the car into drive and books it home. The tears manage to stay in until he’s back inside his big, empty house. He hates it more than ever.
Eddie seemed to be the only person who ever really noticed how much Steve hates this place – it’s tall, empty walls that bounce the endless silence off them, the hulking dining room, always painfully empty.
The pool.
What’s it matter, though, because apparently Eddie still fucking thinks of him as King Steve. Thinks he’s different, but not different enough.
He could cry.
He is crying. Big, hot tears roll down his face. Steve’s always been a silent crier – or well, he learned young that tears have to be silent. Not a single sob escapes him as he collapses on the lounge and just wishes he’d done everything differently. Maybe if he had rebelled harder when his father made him be Tommy’s friend. Hadn’t been a huge dick to anyone and everyone. Stood up more to Tommy when he was being an asshole. Hadn’t—
Hadn’t been so fucking stupid to think it meant anything.
He doesn’t tell Robin. She’s knows something is wrong – whether it’s from Steve’s sullen, depressed mood, or from the way Eddie no longer comes into Family Video. She pries – endlessly pries – but Steve can’t fight the humiliation enough to tell her.
And, honestly, he’s a little afraid she might agree. That she might laugh, kindly, and say “yeah, well, you are still King Steve at the end of the day.”
It might be irrational, but when you believe in ghosts, every shadow has something in it.
So, he shuts it in. Avoid Eddie, because it’s the least he can do. Dials back with the kids because almost everything they want to do involves Eddie.
Honestly, all things considered, he’s dealing with it really well. He isn’t over it, but he isn’t… he’s not…
He’d dealing with it.
He works, hangs out with Robin, and only sometimes cries himself to sleep when he thinks about how unlovable he must truly be.
It’s fine.
Good, even.
He even thinks he’s getting away with it until Robin finally snaps.
They’re not at work, which is where she usually corners him.
No, they’re at a cute café on the edge of Hawkins – the only with the pretty thirty-something waitress that Robin has a crush on. They get milkshakes.
And maybe, yeah, he’s a little spacey today, but when Robin sighs her I’m annoyed and you have to ask me why sigh, Steve realizes he might be in trouble.
“What’s wrong?” He asks.
“What’s wrong?” Robin parrots, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been weird.”
“I’m not! I just—I haven’t been sleeping.”
“That’s your go-to lie. C’mon. You’ve been all… all sad. And you haven’t been hanging out with Eddie. You haven’t even mentioned him, so, what gives?”
Maybe, just maybe, Steve hasn’t been as subtle as he’d first thought. “I—there are other things going on in my life.”
“No. Something happened, and I’ve been letting you sulk for two weeks but I’m sick of your moping. Tell me, or I’m going to tell Keith it’s you who never rewinds tapes,” she threatens,
“You’re the one who does that!” Steve hisses across the table, furious as she shrugs, face aloof. Steve hates Robin – okay no, that isn’t true. Steve loves Robin more than anything – but he hates how goddamn good she is at guessing what might be wrong. He sighs, defeated, “fine. I... I asked Eddie out.”
Her eyes go wide immediately as she leans across the table, clutching the edge. “You what? And you didn’t tell me? What happened to platonic soulmates? We’re meant to tell each other when monumental things—” She cuts herself off, brows furrowing. “Wait – he… did he say no?”
Steve slumps, gaze fixed on the table. “Obviously he said no, Robs.” Steve mutters, “he us, he said he still thought of me as King Steve.”
Robin gasps, loud enough to draw the waitress’ attention for a moment. “No. That doesn’t – that doesn’t make any sense, Steve. He – you guys spent all your time together. He never shut up about you. He—no. That can’t be right.”
“I dunno what to tell you.” He keeps his voice level but can’t meet her eyes. “It’s what he said.”
“And you know that’s a stupid thing for him to say, right?” Robin asks.
Steve shrugs. Doesn’t want to tell her that maybe he thinks Eddie might be a little right. Doesn’t want to admit he’s terrified he is still the same person.
“I’m telling you he’s wrong. And there has to be more to it than that.” Robin decides, finally sitting back. Steve chances a glance at her, only to see her with her arms crossed, stormy look in her eyes.
“Look, Robs, it’s fine. He’s allowed to say no—”
“Sure. But he can’t be an asshole about it.” Robin cuts in furiously. “Especially when he’s wrong.”
“Yeah, well. Whatever.” Steve says with another shrug. “Can we just leave it? I’m getting over it.”
Her scowl deepns for a moment, then smooths as she sighs. “Fine.” She says, and Steve doesn’t believe her.
Robin is like that, though. It’s part of why he loves her so much. She’s awkward, and funny, but sometimes… she’s so tough she’s terrifying. Protective.
He won’t ever love anyone as much as her.
He moves on, or he tries to. A little part of him even manages to be angry at Eddie, but he doesn’t think it’s fair, so he tries to stifle that.
Buries it beneath the odd grief that crops up. It isn’t just that Eddie doesn’t want or like him, it’s that he misses him. Aside from the whole crush of it all, Steve liked having Eddie as a friend. He was probably Steve’s best friend, after Robin. Not that there are many others to choose from.
Especially ones his age.
But he’ll survive it, just like he survived Nancy and the Upside Down.
It’s three weeks post-Eddie, and Steve is spending the night alone.
Or, he was, until there’s a knock on his front door.
It’s almost 11pm, so Steve really hopes it isn’t one of the kids, because it’s well passed curfew and Steve hates enabling them.
It definitely won’t be Robin. It’s Tuesday night, which for Steve tends to be Romcom night. He settles on the longue, wine and popcorn in hand, and cries his heart out at whatever shit movie he’s put on. They’re mostly lighthearted, but it’s cathartic and, really, Steve can’t cry at most things, so it’s good to get it out.
Even if it is over something a little silly.
Robin doesn’t enjoy them – not because of Steve’s crying – but because she’s finds them boring, so she never comes around.
Not that she knocks anyway.
Which means it’s probably one of the kids, damn them to hell.
Steve sighs and dries his face, splashing it with a little cold water to soothe the sweeling, and prepares to lie about having hay fever. Even if it is very late August.
When he opens the door, though, it isn’t any of the kids.
It isn’t Robin, either.
Instead, it’s Eddie, who stands uncomfortably on the steps, fingers twisting. He seems nervous – more nervous than usual – and Steve can’t blame him.
“Oh.” Is what Steve says, unable to come up with anything else.
Eddie’s face twitches into a smile that falls immediately. “Hi,” he greets, then pauses, “have you been crying?”
Steve blinks, lies deserting him as he brings a hand to his face. “It’s Romcom Tuesday.”
“It’s what?”
“Romcom Tuesday. I, uh, watch Romcoms.” Steve tells him, like it isn’t embarrassing at all.
Eddie pauses again, like he’s not sure if he believes Steve, then nods. “Cool. Is it a bad time?”
Yes, Steve thinks, but then, there isn’t a good time at all. So, really, what’s it matter?
So, instead of telling Eddie to beat it, he steps aside, gesturing Eddie in. Eddie wanders inside, taking a curious look into Steve’s living room, where blankets are piled on the lounge, wine and popcorn situated in front of them as Sixteen Candles plays on the TV, volume loud so Steve can actually hear it.
Something like fond amusement passes on Eddie’s face as he looks back at Steve. It’s cautious, like he’s not sure he can be amused.
“You weren’t joking,” Eddie comments.
Steve shrugs, uncertain of what to say. Honestly, he doesn’t even really need to have this conversation.
“So, Robin talked to me.” Eddie says eventually, eyes on Steve. “She’s uh, a lot more terrifying than people give her credit for.”
Fucking Robin. “She does have a tendency to… threaten,” Steve agrees. “Sorry for any inconvenience caused.”
He steps around Eddie, beelining for his place on the longue. If they’re doing it, he might as well be comfortable.
“It’s fine, I liked it,” Eddie says, voice trying to take on a joking tone. It doesn’t land. “She was right, anyway. I’ve kinda been a dick.”
“Okay.” Steve says, eyes drifting back to the TV. It’s reaching the end of the film, and Steve doesn’t want to miss when Jake and Sam really get together.
Eddie seems more unsure than he’s ever been in Steve’s presence. He can hear him fidgeting, shifting his weight between his feet.
Good.
“You’re nothing like King Steve,” Eddie tells him, and Steve can’t help the way he tenses up. “I—when I said that, it came out wrong. It wasn’t…” Eddie stops, then sighs. “I’m not good at this.”
Steve rolls his head to look at Eddie. “Then give up.”
Eddie’s hands clench into fists, jaw setting. “I don’t want to. That evening, when you asked me out on a date, I didn’t really get what you were doing.”
“Really? Because you seemed to get the drift back then.” He can’t help but give in to the prickle of annoyance that rises up.
“No, but—”
“I get it, Eddie. Robin’s forced you to come over here and apologize for hurting my feelings. I don’t need you to… to make me feel better. We can keep doing what we’ve been doing.”
“And what is that, exactly?”
“Avoiding each other.” Steve answers easily, taking a sip of his wine.
Eddie’s face twitches. “Dustin’s complaining that you’re not around as much. Well, so are the others, but he’s being annoying about it.”
“Then we can hang out more. I just—they always want to include you.”
“And is that what you want? To just… keep not being friends?”
It isn’t what Steve wants, but he isn’t sure what he does want – aside from to go back in time and stop it all from happening. He wants to have never been King Steve at all. He wants to stop himself from being a dick, from asking out Eddie.
But that’s impossible.
“You’re nothing like King Steve,” Eddie says again, firmer this time. “I didn’t think you really liked me. I’ve fucked guys who—they want to take a spin, see what being gay is like, and then they throw me away. They didn’t want me for anything more than a quick fuck. I thought maybe you just wanted to give it a try, y’know? Dip your feet in.”
Somehow, that stings more, and Steve’s nose wrinkles at the thought. “You thought I was just going to use you?”
“No!” Eddie cries, “well, a little. I didn’t think you were like that, but I was… I was scared of the chance that you were, you get it?” Eddie, underneath this new, nervous energy, does seem afraid. Just a glimmer of fear and, well, Steve does get it, doesn’t he?
And he doesn’t want to be mad, or sad. He wants Eddie back; in whatever way he can have him. He understands that Eddie was a scared man doing whatever he could to protect himself.
“I get it.” Seve says, eyes going back to the TV. “And I accept your apology.”
“Good.” Eddie breathes, like he’s been holding his breath the whole time. “Is that—do you mind if I watch the rest with you? I love this scene.”
And wow, that’s a surprise. Eddie Munson, King of Metal and All Things Nerdy likes Sixteen Candles. When Steve looks over to him, surprise easily written across his face, Eddie is offering a tentative smile, and everything about him says peace offering. So, Steve nods, pats the spot next to him, and turns up the volume.
He cries when Jake and Sam kiss. He can’t help it. He’s in the headspace for Romcoms. What’s he meant to do?
Eddie doesn’t cry, but he does watch it with a soft, genuine smile, which is more than Robin ever does. So, he assumes they’re good. Friends again.
Which is fine, it’s for the best.
Steve puts on another Romcom after – Grease, this time – and Eddie doesn’t move.
It’s halfway through Grease that Eddie clears his throat. “We should do this properly next time.”
It’s almost without thinking that Steve says, “properly? Is there a right way to do this?”
“Y’know. Candles. Dinner.” Eddie says slowly, something like uncertainty in his voice. “I’m not a good cook, but I’ll do it if you want.”
And Steve isn’t sure about it – Eddie did reject him first, and the petty part of him wants to fling it right back. But when he looks over at Eddie, the other man is smiling that beautiful fucking soft smile and no matter how petty Steve might be, he’s a romantic.
Sue him.
So, instead, he smiles back. “I’d like that. I’ll cook, though.”
And Eddie deflates. “Oh thank God. I wasn’t lying, I’m a really bad cook.”
“I believe you. I’ve seen your kitchen.”
They do end up doing the date properly. In Eddie’s house, because Steve hates his. They watch Grease again (it’s Steve’s favourite film. He can’t help it), Steve cooks them pasta and, despite the insane fire hazard it provides, Eddie lights so many cheap tealight candles that there’s no need for lights.