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Eddie scrubbed hard at an old stain on the glass window, an endless night waiting on the other side. He paused, looked at the yellow-ish streak, and scrubbed again, harder.
And again, and he swore he could hear the glass breaking underneath the weight of his hand. Or maybe it was him breaking.
Eddie did not like cleaning.
But his gut was trying to swallow him whole, and his fists couldn’t stop shaking, and Wayne was playing the TV loud enough that he could hear the death counts rising.
Because there was a fire at the mall. The mall where Steve worked.
And he’d tried calling Steve’s house, because he wasn’t supposed to be working then anyways, but he wasn’t picking up, and Steve’d said earlier he’d come over to hang out, maybe smoke a pack or two, and Steve’s nothing if not reliable, and when Eddie had tried to drive out to find him Wayne had stopped him cause the roads were blocked and the death count was still going up and -
Eddie squeezed the bottle of window cleaner so hard in his hand the top broke off, the piece of plastic cracking at the base. He cursed, setting it down, chipped black nails and blood crusted cuticles burned from where the liquid touched his skin.
“What did that bottle of cleaner ever do to ya, Eds?” Wayne asked from the other room. The man hadn’t moved an inch from his spot on the couch, eyes still scrutinizing the TV. Eddie sighed, and the breath carved its way out.
“Maybe it’s evil,” He said. “Maybe it’s out to get me - plotting my demise as you know it.” He barely registered his own voice and words. The noise coming out of his mouth strained against the chatter from the TV, both of them droning on.
“-The amount of persons dead from the mall fire has just risen to 19, including police captain Jim Hopper.”
“Maybe so.” Wayne agreed, and if Eddie didn’t know him better he’d say Wayne didn’t care. The man was so nonchalant, always gruff - it was hard to imagine him even shedding a tear. But Eddie could hear the strain in his voice. He was worried too.
This was their way of dealing with it. Instead of facing it head on the Munsons would turn their backs and pretend it wasn’t there. It happened when Eddie’s mom died, when his dad went to jail, and now when they were both hanging onto every word the news reporter had to say, just in case they caught the name of the boy they’d both grown to love.
He didn’t know how Wayne did it. Just sat and watched the TV. Eddie thinks he’d go insane. Even now, endlessly scrubbing away at a spot he was becoming more and more convinced was a stress induced hallucination- he was itching to move more. Fire buzzed in his veins, and he thought if he didn’t take off running through the front door he’d tear his hair out by the roots.
But then what if he missed Steve? What if Steve was just late, or hurt, or scared, and for some reason still came over to his trailer? What if Eddie wasn’t there because he was rummaging along the side of the road, walking to Starcourt?
So he stayed. And he cleaned.
Time crept by slowly, and eventually Eddie abandoned the glass streak in favor of dusting. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be closer or farther away from the sound of the TV.
Then the doorbell rang.
The doorbell rang and Eddie almost missed it because his thoughts were ringing so loudly in his ears, going over every possible scenario. But when he scampered to the door, yanking the thing open, he met eyes with Steve.
Eddie couldn’t help a gasp that escaped him, any words he might’ve been planning to say clogging in his throat. Steve was beat to hell, face mottled red and purple. Blood was crusted at the corners of his chin, his nose, scalp - into the crevices of his very being.
Eddie was so shocked he didn’t realize Wayne was right behind him, or that Steve was pushing his way into the trailer on shaky legs.
Once the door was closed Steve grabbed something from inside his coat, and produced a slightly crumpled bouquet of red flowers.
“Sorry I’m late.” He said, his voice hoarse and tired and god it sounded like Steve had been screaming or crying. Maybe both.
He wanted relief to crash into him at seeing Steve, wanted his body to stop holding itself like it was at gunpoint- but Steve was so beat up it made his breaths get stuck in his throat.
Eddie glanced between him and the flowers, and some how a feeling of adoration worming its way past the screaming feelings of fear. This man was going to be the death of him.
“Oh god, oh Steve,” Eddie’s hands fluttered, not sure where to touch him - afraid to. He was so broken Eddie wasn’t even sure where to start trying to put the pieces back together. “Sweetheart, I- you’re- god that looks awful, like you look like a grinded up piece of meat- what happened?” Eddie was starting to see more similarities between him and Robin every day.
Wayne, thankfully, took charge. The man always was a beacon of stability, a fortress in a raving sea. He placed a strong arm on Steve’s back, another on his forearm, and led him to the bathroom.
“Let’s get you cleaned up. Ed’s, get him some water.” Eddie felt useless as his uncle led Steve to the bathroom, leaving him to get water.
Eddie scrambled into the kitchen, a whirlwind of anxiety and motion, hands shaking and he was trying to get it done so fast he almost dropped the glass, and as he sprinted into the bathroom he wasn’t sure if he’d even managed to turn off the water faucet.
Wayne had Steve propped onto the toilet seat, holding a tissue to his nose. Steve was a little hunched over, arm wrapped around his middle. It almost broke Eddie seeing him like that.
Wayne rose to his feet.
“ ‘e says that the doctors already patched him up enough, not much more we can do cept keep an eye on ‘im.” The man nodded, before stepping out, clapping a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, eyeing him.
Eddie nodded as he stepped out. Wayne knew he liked Steve - of course he knew, it was Wayne. Somehow without Eddie coming out to him he’d recognized his ailing gay heart, and decided to love him. despite. Leaving Eddie alone with Steve like this was nothing short of Wayne flipping him the bird and cackling maniacally.
Eddie turned to Steve, dug his toes into the ground beneath him, gritted his teeth. Then he whistled, and rocked back and forth.
“Soooo, that looks pretty bad Steave-o.” Maybe god did hate him. Maybe the universe was truly out to get him.
“Thanks,” Steve replied wryly, looking down at his hands. Dammit, Eddie thought with no small amount of panic, damnit dammit dammit.
“I just mean- I just-“ He groaned, pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes. “I’m so bad at this. Do you, like, need anything? We got some food, and-shit I’m still holding your water.” He looked to the glass of water in his hand, embarrassment burning at his ears. He handed the glass to Steve.
Steve shook his head silently, some complex expression on his face Eddie couldn’t decipher.
“I’m sorry,” The man suddenly blurted. Eddie tilted his head, confused.
“I - I mean the water was my bad, man, don’t, like worry about it or whatever-“
“No, I’m sorry for..” Steve interrupted, and then took a rattling breath. “I’m sorry for just popping up out of nowhere. I - I would’ve just stayed with Robin, cause she- she was there too, but her parents were worried sick, and so were Dustin’s and everyone else’s and my parents are out of town and don’t get back till next week and-“
Eddie slapped a hand over Steve’s mouth. Then, regretting his decision considering Steve currently looked worse than a school meatloaf, he withdrew it.
“Sorry, for uh, the hand but… Steve you don’t have to apologize. If you didn’t come over I would’ve murdered you myself. Wayne would help me hide the body. I’m happy you came over. We were… we were worried sick, man. So thanks, for coming over. For trusting us.” Trusting me.
Steve blinked, lips pinching and eyes squinting as he tried to fight a smile. Eddie didn’t bother, letting a soft one glaze over his features.
They shared an akward amount of time of just looking at each other (not that Eddie would complain about looking at Steve. Have you seen the man?) Before Steve finally interrupted it.
“Can I change?” Steve asked abruptly, feet hanging off the side of the toilet. He was still hunched over, cradling his side, face still screwed up in pain.
Eddie blinked, a small blush forming on his cheeks. Steve was covered in dirt, blood and who knew what else. Of course he’d want to get out of it.
“I - yeah. Yeah of course. And you should shower, too. Don’t want you getting germs on my nice clean sheets.” He joked, thinking about his decidedly dirty room and bed. The bed-frame itself was broken in on one side, causing the entire thing to be slanted, the sheets were probably older than Eddie himself, and the pillows covered in stains. Steve was probably cleaner than it.
“I’m sure those sheets have seen worse. Don’t think I forgot about those mattress stains, Munson.” Though Eddie should’ve been offended, despite how true it was, he had to physically stop himself from doing a little victory dance. Steve’d been so quiet since he got here. So… unlike himself. It was more than a little refreshing to hear a little quip from him.
Eddie winked in response, not able to hold back a wide grin.
Steve smiled back, and if Eddie didn’t know better he’d think he was blushing- but he was probably wrong. The man’s whole face was a plethora of red spots currently.
“Are you gonna need help like… changing.. or anything?” Eddie asked, trying not to be awkward and failing. He didn’t want the guy to feel weird getting help, he wanted him to ask if he needed it.
But, if Steve said yes he just might implode into a gooey mess of gayness.
Thankfully though, he shook his head.
Eddie went to fish out whatever clothes he could find that seemed appropriate. Which ones screamed ‘I might be crushing on you big time but please don’t notice… but if you reciprocate I think I’d start squealing like a middle-school girl.’
He settled on an old Metallica T-shirt, a pear of sweats, and some boxers (he tried not to think about those too much).
He walked in and set them on the counter, eyeing Steve. The man seemed withdrawn, eyes unfocused, hands squeezed tight.
Eddie felt his heart break a little. He laid a hand carefully on his shoulder, light as a feather.
“If you need something just call me, okay?”
“Okay.” And with that Eddie left him to it.
-
While Steve showered Eddie got to cleaning his room. Just a little. He didn’t think Steve would really care if it was dirty - probably wouldn’t even notice, but it still was… important to Eddie, in a way, that he could show he could maintain himself.
He realined his pillows, changed his moth-bitten sheets, and put all the clothes currently sitting in a pile in the corner of his floor into a laundry basket. He even pulled out an extra blanket from the closet, just in case Steve got cold.
The entire time he had his music off, a rare thing for him, and listened just to make sure the boy in his shower didn’t topple over.
He heard the water turn off, the sound of wet feet on floor, the shuffle of clothes, and
then the annoyingly loud creaking of the bathroom door.
Eddie fixed him with a grin.
“Hey, Stevie.”
Steve looked better at least. Most of the blood seemed to have gotten washed off along with the grime.
Steve gave a small smile in return, something Eddie took with as a win.
“Now let’s get you to bed, sweetheart.”
Steve crawled into bed, and Eddie hadn’t missed his limp or the way he shuddered with every breath, but he sighed happily, looking comfortable.
“Oh, I have a concussion so you’re gonna have to, um, wake me up every hour.” Steve mumbled, staring down. “S-“
“If you even behind to say sorry I will personally feed you to a golem myself.” Steve blinked at him, a little surprised.
“Golem? Is that one of your DnD things?”
“Yeah, unless you’re talking about Golem from the Lord of the Rings. Personally I think Lord of the Rings Golem would be a worse death - little dude freaks me the hell out.”
Steve stared at him, eyes squinted slightly like he was mentally going over every word that came out of Eddie’s mouth.
Then he burst out laughing.
Not a little laugh, not some cute thing or even just a small snicker. It was booming, ugly, somewhere between a snort and a wheeze. Eddie had almost thought he was choking and about to die.
It was decidedly one of his favorite sounds.
“You’re such a nerd!” He squawked out.
Eddie wasn’t even completely sure what he was laughing at - nothing he’d said was even remotely funny, or even really that nerdy. But Steve was wiping away tears from laughter, not pain, so he took it as a win.
Then, Steve groaned, one hand coming to hold his face, another cradling his ribs. Eddie would’ve called this karma if it didn’t immediately make him jump a little, as if the man would keel over and die at any second.
“I’ve got peas in the freezer, I’ll go grab them before you break something.”
He didn’t miss Steve’s smile on the way out.
-
Eddie handed the pack of peas to Steve, this being the second round of them. They’d decided it would be best to keep Steve’s head and torso elevated throughout the night, so Eddie’d had to grab about a dozen extra pillows from the back he hadn’t even known he owned.
“So,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I guess that’s it. I’ll be sleeping on the couch, but I’ll be coming in every hour to make sure you don’t, y’know, die in your sleep. But if you need anything, and I mean anything just come and get me or Wayne.”
He waggled a finger at him for that last part, feeling a bit like a parent.
Steve said nothing, just nodded. Eddie exhaled, and then went to turn off the light.
But he was stopped by a hand on his wrist.
“Wait. Can you just. Just leave the light on?” Then, cringing, “Or, like, you don’t have to, but maybe if I- if I had to get up in the night or something, and I had to see it’d.. it…”
Steve trailed off, and it wasn’t difficult to see red shame licking its way up Steve’s face.
“Of course I can leave the lights on, Stevie.” And Eddie looked at this person- this boy who was in so much pain he winced at every inhale, shook at every noise, eyed the shadows of the room like they were going to jump out at him, and blinked tears away when he got too lost in thought. Eddie looked at the boy he was beginning to think he just he really, just might, love.
And he said, mentally, fuck it.
“And, what if I just… slept in here tonight. To help you find your way to the bathroom or whatever. Plus, that way I won’t have to crawl off the couch to wake you up.”
He knew it was a gamble. Steve had probably heard the rumors. Eddie Munson who gave other boys hand jobs, Eddie Munson who watched the other guys in the dressing rooms, Eddie Munson the faggot.
He half expected Steve to immediately withdraw, heterosexual straight-boy persona flaring up with a vengeance.
‘Share a bed with you? The hell are you on about?’
But when Eddie was first getting to know Steve - not long after the disappearance, and reappearance, of one Will Byers and the death of Barbara Holland, he learned some things.
One, Steve Harrington was incredibly afraid of spiders.
And two, he was full of surprises.
“Yeah - I - yes. Please. If you don’t, like, mind. Or anything. Just in case I need help getting to the bathroom - and because it’d be easier for you.” Steve stumbled his way through, a blush buzzing on his skin, and Eddie had to close his mouth with his hand, shocked but pleased.
And so Eddie found himself climbing into bed next to Steve Harrington, a boy made from splinters, cracked skulls, and shaky limbs.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Steve mumbled, voice loud against the silence.
“Do what?”
Steve waved his hand around, gesturing to…well, Eddie wasn’t quite sure.
“All of this… just, taking care of me. And being here and just… everything.” The word ‘everything’ was so packed with emotion Eddie had to take a second before he could respond. He didn’t know so much feeling could even be expressed so freely in a word. Gratitude, confusion, self-loathing… something else as well, something a little warmer.
“Of course. Man, I was, I was so scared earlier.” Eddie let out a nervous puff of air, stared hard at the part of his ceiling that had water damage on it, orange light from his lamp illuminating everything, refusing to even glance in Steve’s direction.
“Wayne had the TV on, and you weren’t picking up and you were so late, like so late and I think I cleaned more in that hour and a half then I have in the entire 10 years I’ve lived here and I… I- god I thought you were dead, Steve.”
And it was stupid, the tears that pricked in his eyes, the burning in his nose and throat that made his chin wobble uncontrollably.
But then he looked up at Steve, because if he didn’t he thought he might explode from not seeing the emotions going through those eyes, only to see him looking away, wiping at a suspiciously wet face.
Eddie pushed himself to his knees, facing him.
“Sorry,” The man gasped, voice choked and watery. “I’m so sorry, sorry, sorry-“ He fizzled out into a broken version of the word, somewhere between strangled sobs and gasps.
And - Eddie couldn’t hold himself back. Didn’t want to.
He leaned forward carefully, and wrapped his arms around Steve. He made sure to keep his touches light, not wanting to constrict or hurt him. The angle was awkward with how Eddie was leaning over Steve, and the other not being able to fully sit up but it was something. It was there.
Steve immediately buried his head into Eddie’s neck and shoulder, hands wrapping around his torso and grabbing onto his shirt. He could feel how he shook with every ounce of his being, sobbing and a wet spot kept growing on his shoulder.
Steve kept sobbing out sorries, and Eddie wasn’t sure Steve was even knew what he was apologizing for anymore.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s alright.” He just kept repeating it until they stopped being phrases and just noises of comfort, and Steve’s sobs eventually evened out.
Steve was asleep, Eddie realized blatantly. He was passed out leaned against Eddie’s shoulder, slouched over.
Carefully, Eddie leaned him back onto the pillows, one hand firmly on the back of his neck, the other on his shoulder blades. He pulled the covers up, checked the time to see when he would be waking Steve, and then curled up.
He fell asleep to the raspy sound of Steve Harrington’s breathing.