Bad Luck, Bad Decisions (Stranger Things, Eddie)

[Skylacticon]

Hey folks - I'm back with another angsty hurt/comfort fic. Hope you've been well. xx

 

-

 

 

“Stop acting like you want me to get better when all you really want is for me to get back onstage!”

 

Steve was speechless for a second. A number of questions surfaced in his brain. He had to choose carefully. ‘Is that not what you want?’ - clearly not, at least not right now, apparently. ‘Acting like I want you to get better?’ - would convey the hurt he felt, but didn’t sound productive or helpful. Steve exhaled, and the few seconds in which he probably should have said something seemed to slip out of his fingers.

 

Eddie buried his face in his hands and ran them slowly down his face. He sat down with a huff on the couch. Steve watched him from where he stood. He hated himself for not moving forward, saying something in a soft voice, something that showed he cared, like a good boyfriend would probably do. It’s not like he was angry at Eddie. Steve took the next breath in slowly, and released it. Then his stomach dropped, as if crossing the tipping point of a high rollercoaster, as Eddie muttered out two words.

 

“Get out.”

 

Steve’s next heavy breath was less concealed, his frame swaying like he was about to do what he was told, or as if he’d been slapped in the face, at least, that’s how it felt. He swallowed and opened his mouth, trying hard to fight against the hard lump in his throat.

 

Steve crossed his arms. “Eddie, that’s not what I meant,” he said in a low tone.

 

“Just get out, Steve, Jesus Christ.” Eddie repeated, burying his face in his hands. His weak voice could hardly yell, sounding so exasperated that Steve found himself blinking back tears.

 

Steve blinked at the ground, dumbfounded, and his feet started to move, as if controlled by a remote. The warm light in the kitchen swept into his vision, built up by memories the two of them had made over the past few months. It’s warmth seemed to mock him, as if he’d tried to find some answer there in the familiarity and intimacy, but a lamp was all it was.

 

The dizzying silence was broken by a sneeze. Steve kept walking, the muffled sound of his footsteps on the carpet seeming to reverberate in his head. Then there was another sneeze - and another. And another.

 

Steve’s footsteps came to a halt.

 

“isschiuhh!! ... -ISCHhiuh!! hh'ISSCHHh!! … -ISSCHHiu!!”

 

He kept on walking-

 

“huh’ESSCHH!! -‘ESSCHH!! hrr’ESSCHHhh!! *snnrff*”

 

-down the hall, and into the bedroom, and over to Eddie’s dresser.

 

“Hihhh- Huh’ESSCHHIOO!!”

 

Steve’s footsteps came back down through the hallway and past the kitchen, back to the living room space.

 

Eddie was sitting on the couch, hunched over with his arms wrapped around himself, one securely held over his nose and mouth. “ESSHHiu!!-ESCHh!! …*snrf*” His frame shook with each sneeze, and they just kept coming, with short little intervals in which he’d sniffle wetly or take a few hitching breaths. “hrr’ISCHhiuh!! *sdrf!* AASCHhiew!! … *sdrf*”

 

Steve stood hesitantly a few feet away - then stepped forward slowly over to Eddie. Gathering courage, he put a gentle hand on Eddie’s shoulder, which spasmed with another harsh sneeze, and brought his other hand in front of Eddie’s face, holding a fresh handkerchief.

 

“ESSCHhiu!! -ESSCHH!! *snrff*”

 

“Ed,” Steve breathed, and touched the cloth to Eddie’s hand.

 

“‘Esschh!!” Eddie jerked forward with a smaller, particularly desperate sneeze, then his fingers blindly wrapped around the handkerchief. Another tiny, breathless sneeze was wrangled from him. “-‘eschh!”

 

Eddie’s shoulders expanded with a long inhale, and he took a few panting breaths. His head turned away from Steve as he straightened his posture, and there were a few messy, wet sniffles. He suddenly gasped, and he hurriedly shook out the handkerchief and brought it to his nose.

 

“EESSCHHhiuhh!! *sdrff!* ughh, fuhhckig hell- hih! hiH'- ERRRISSCHHIEWW!!!” The last one was rough - it came out desperately, seeming to rip at Eddie’s throat, making him cough harshly. Steve’s hand still rested on Eddie’s back, rubbing gently up and down. “Jesus…” Eddie muttered, wiping his eyes with one palm.

 

As he regained composure, he became aware of Steve’s hand on his shoulder, and shook it off. Steve moved back, slightly pained as he kept a concerned eye on Eddie.

 

“Do you want tea?” Steve asked quietly. Talking felt rough, but the voice that came out was solid enough not to reveal too much of it.

 

“No, I don’t want tea,” Eddie grumbled.

 

Steve tried to steady his own breathing, as he felt a stinging wave of hurt course through him. What he hated was that it was overwhelming. And it was familiar. There was scar there, close to his heart, that he hadn’t felt in a long time. And with Eddie’s weakened voice, telling him to go, it was making it hard to breathe. All he wanted was to stay and help him feel better. But something was making him listen.

 

Steve sniffed quietly and walked away, and grabbed his jacket by the door. He pulled the door open, and let it fall shut behind him after he stepped out onto the porch.

 

He finally let out the breath he’d been holding, and buried his face in his hands. They dropped to his sides. “Fuck,” he mouthed at the sky, his voice seemingly captured by the lump in his throat.

 

Then, as if on cue, it started to rain. At first in a slow pitter patter, then into heavy showers. Steve watched blankly as the raindrops drummed heavily on the roof of his car, into the grass, the scent of the moist soil becoming thick. He remained beneath the shade over the porch, which kept him dry. Wandering over to the left side of the porch, he pulled a cigarette from the box in his jacket pocket, and stuck it between his lips. Then flicked open his lighter, and took a drag, exhaling the smoke downward. Pensively, he drew a slow inhale, watching the rain cascade in sheets. He barely noticed the burn in his throat - until he coughed, and took the cigarette between his fingers. Smoke billowed before his eyes, amidst the spraying rain, the warm humidity, and he sat down on the old couch that looked out on the lawn.

 

He lifted his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the black ink on his inner bicep. It was a small calligraphic design - two letters, bold but finely detailed. A touch of humour hit him, and simultaneously disgusted him. The permanence of ink. And the permanence of relationships. Another thick wisp of smoke escaped Steve’s lips. His mind felt rather foggy now.

 

He remembered how badly it stung when he was being poked.

 

Eddie’s silver lip ring twinkled as he smiled down at Steve, whose upper arm was trapped under his hand. He tried to keep a straight face, staring at the tapes stacked on Eddie’s shelf, at the skulls on his posters. The pain had gotten to the point where his toes curled, and it was a couple more seconds until Eddie paused again, and gently wiped his arm in a slow, firm motion.

 

Steve was telling him about the time he busted a rib in football - a way to distract himself. Eddie listened, prompting him as he went on. Steve peeked over again, to see Eddie putting some sort of cream on top of the line work.

 

“You’re a real champ,” Eddie said softly, spreading the cream with a gloved finger. “Doing so well.”

 

Steve took another breath, and leaned his head back. “Are you glad you finally got to stab me?” he prodded, resting his other forearm over his eyes.

 

“I’ll admit, it’s satisfying.” Eddie murmured. Then the stabbing continued.

 

“Ah,” Steve couldn’t hide the wince, and Eddie paused again.

 

“Need a break?”

 

“No,” Steve groaned, from beneath his forearm.

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“We’re almost there, sweetheart.” Eddie said softly. “Stay with me, okay?” Steve could feel him holding his arm down again, and tried to relax his muscles.

 

Steve blinked down at the ashy end of the cigarette, leaning forward with his arms resting on his thighs. His shoulders heaved with a sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair, and his gaze shifted back to his car. He reached over to the ashtray on the windowsill, and put out the cigarette. He left it there carelessly, in the grey ashy circle. Then, with one final breath, he got up from the seat on the porch, and headed out into the pouring rain.

 

-

 

Steve didn’t go to school the next day. He hadn’t called anyone. He hadn’t answered the phone. But whether it had been burnout, or stress, or anything like that, he was finding it hard to care, and he had the right mind to know that that was a bad sign. It only went down from there, one paper going missing and then another, and before he knew it, he was getting more shit from Nancy about his grades than his parents ever did.

 

Nancy? He blinked and rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers.

 

He stared down into the pot on the stove, stirring slowly with a wooden spoon. He’d chopped the carrots all uneven, in different thicknesses. He seemed to be moving around like a robot. It was like that ever since he’d gotten up in the morning - he’d gotten dressed and made coffee. Then he was boiling water and chopping carrots and slicing bits of chicken.

 

Steve had figured that whatever Eddie was trying to tell him last night, it hadn’t been the easiest to absorb through his thick skull. But what he knew was that he wanted to be there for him. He needed to be there for him.

 

Under a grey sky, the burgundy BMW pulled into the trailer park.

 

Is this what walking into Mordor feels like? Steve stepped out and glanced over the roof of the car at the Munsons’ trailer. The curtains were drawn. Steve grabbed the bag in the passenger seat, and shut the door.

 

There was a cigarette butt lying in the ashtray on the windowsill. Last night had been real. It was occurring to him again that he had actually left, and Eddie had been alone. Part of him hadn’t felt bad about that, even if Eddie was sick. But he was human, and he had feelings. Maybe he was wrong for leaving him in that state, but maybe it was best for the both of them. And in any case, he was here now. Steve took a breath and reached into his pocket for the keys.

 

“Ed?”

 

Inside the trailer was dim. It was a mess. Eddie’s bags had been left by the door, and there were dishes in the sink. The living room was empty, couch cushions astray. There was an empty mug sitting on the counter.

 

“Eddie?”

 

Steve glanced around. He walked down the hall towards the bedroom. The door was closed. He paused a bit, then knocked.

 

“Hey Ed?” No answer. His chest seemed to sink.  “Eddie, it’s me.” Still no answer. Steve looked up, his eyes stinging a little. “I’m- I’m coming in, okay?”

 

After a beat, Steve turned the doorknob and pushed open the door.

 

“Oh god, Eddie.”

 

Steve rushed over to the side of the mattress, where Eddie lay, curled up on his side. There was a dull stench. On the edge of the mattress, there was a faint orange stain. Steve’s gaze darted back to Eddie.

 

“Hey,” Steve breathed. He put a hand on the side of Eddie’s face. “Hey, Eddie?”

 

Eddie blinked drowsily. He didn’t look so good. “Steve,” he breathed. Eddie closed his eyes, and his expression seemed to crumble as he saw Steve take in the scene before him.

 

“It’s okay,” Steve said softly. “It’s okay. I’m gonna be right back, okay?”

 

Steve hurried to the closet and grabbed a facecloth, then went to the bathroom to wet it under the tap. He wrung it out and returned to the bedroom. Eddie was trying to sit up, pushing up slowly with his hands.

 

“Easy, easy.” Steve knelt down next to him. He gently dabbed around Eddie’s lips with the wet cloth.

 

“Don’t-“ Eddie rasped. “I threw up,” he began to explain.

 

“I know,” Steve said gently. He finished wiping Eddie’s face, then raised a hand to feel his forehead, pushing back his bangs. He was alarmingly warm.

 

As Steve drew back his hand, Eddie coughed sharply - he quickly turned his head away and let out a string of harsh, rapid-fire sneezes. “k’gxXSCHhiuh!!- uh’ISCHHhiu!!huhd’ISSCHhh!! -rr'ISCHh!!”

 

“Bless you,” Steve murmured softly, giving him some space.

 

Eddie stayed like that for a moment, his face tucked into the crook of his arm. His frame rose and fell with a few panting breaths, and sniffled, long and wet.

 

“….*snnrff*” He let his arm fall, revealing a pale, sullen face. Then in a raspy, low voice, “I think I’m dying.”

 

Steve let out a quiet, tearful scoff. He leaned closer. “Hey,” he whispered. “We’ll get through this. Yeah?” He put his hand on top of Eddie’s. “Just stay with me.”

 

There was a painful second of doubt in Eddie’s eyes, as Steve squeezed his hand. Trembling slightly, Eddie flipped over his hand. Steve felt his rings press into his palm as Eddie gave it a tight squeeze.

[jellizard]

eeee new Skylacticon fic

[Skylacticon]

Hey peeps~

@jellizard ❤️❤️❤️

I'm back with the next part. Hope everyone's been well.

-

 

Part 2

 

Eddie was in fact, not dying. He had come down with a bad case of the flu. This was knowledge that had been delivered to Steve after he’d sped all the way to the hospital, with Eddie slumped in the passenger seat.

 

The car was quiet during the drive home. Steve tried to focus on his next few moves, staring straight ahead. It was a rough one. Wayne had mentioned to him that Eddie had been dealing with anxiety ever since he was a kid. The spring of 86’ had taken a heavy toll on him both physically and mentally, and though a lot had changed for the better over the past year, it was still hard. There were periods of time where Eddie would go days without sleep. Without sleep, he often got sick. He wasn’t always consistent when keeping up with appointments and taking medication for it, and when it got bad, he would often opt for something else entirely.

 

He’d been known to make decisions that hadn’t helped him in the long run. Steve couldn’t entirely blame him - but he partly felt guilty for that, because he really did love Eddie, and he wanted him to have a good and healthy life. 

 

Eddie was wearing Steve’s grey jacket. It was a bit big on him, making him appear softer at the edges. His dark hair was rather wild and tangled, his skin still very pale. Dark circles hung under his eyes, which stared blankly out the window. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Eddie shift and lift a hand to his face. “‘nxgkk!-hmnh… ng’xXgt!-hnhh…”

 

Steve sighed inwardly. 

 

“huh’gGtschh!!”

 

“Ed, there’s tissues under the seat.”

 

“huht’ISSCHHh!!” Eddie hastily lifted the crook of his arm to catch that sneeze, and kept it over his face as he leaned forward to reach for the tissue box. Steve heard wet, congested sniffles, as Eddie’s arm lowered and he pulled a couple of tissues from the box. He couldn’t help but peek over as Eddie folded them, and lifted them to his face. “heh’TSCHhiuh!!”

 

Steve chewed on the inside of his cheek, returning his eyes to the road. He couldn’t want Eddie going back onstage like this. That isn’t what he’d said last night. Eddie had a lot riding on this next tour, but he’d been pretty out of it for the past few weeks. Steve was wondering if he’d be able to hold out that long. Steve had been very busy balancing work and exams, running daily on less than four hours of sleep. Money was low and prices were going up. And it was difficult navigating systems and spaces that weren’t very accepting of them.

 

“hetT’SCHIEWW!!”

 

“Bless you,” Steve said quietly.

 

The next couple of sneezes were muffled, but desperate. “ESCHh!! ‘ESCHh!!-hmhh… *snrff*”

 

Steve glanced over again. Eddie was wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He sniffled liquidly and turned his head to look out the window, facing away.

 

“hEH’ESSCHHIEWW!!-ughh… *snnrff*”

 

Eddie kept sniffling, huffing through his mouth. In the silence, Steve could hear the misery of it. Sniffling harshly against sore, sensitive sinuses, it only made it more itchy. Eddie’s right hand raised, shakily clutching tissues.

 

“‘ieyY’ESSCHHIU!! huh’gTSCHH!!” Steve heard Eddie suck in a gurgly sniffle, and pull more tissues from the box. “Hehh-? Huh’ISSCHHIU!!”

 

“Darling, blow your nose.” Steve said gently, his eyes still on the road.

 

There was another pause, as Eddie emerged from behind the tissues, his red nostrils throbbing. His eyes were narrowed, and squeezed shut as he buried his face into the tissues again. “hyiehh’ESSCHHIEWW!!”

 

 “Bless you.”

 

“haah’CHIEWW!!”

 

“Bless you.”

 

After a bit, Eddie gave his nose a long, gurgly blow. Then, he sank against the passenger side door. Seconds later, he raised a forearm, and his frame shivered with another itchy sneeze.

 

When they arrived at the trailer park, Eddie was wiping his watery eyes again. The sneezing just wouldn’t stop. They emerged from him in desperate, ticklish volleys, sometimes without breath in between.

 

“hg’TSCHHh!!” Eddie sneezed through clenched teeth, without raising the wad of tissue. He gasped softly and lifted the back of his hand. “hihh’nxgkk!!-uh… -huh! ‘xXgck!!-unhh… huh’igGSCHH!!” 

 

“Bless you.”

 

Eddie’s shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths. After a short, dazed pause, he rubbed his red, sore nostrils and sniffled thickly. He wiped his watery eyes with his wrist. Then, in a quick motion, he opened the car door and clambered out.

 

“Hey, easy,” Steve watched as Eddie stumbled out of the car. He unbuckled his own seatbelt and jogged around the front of the car to follow him.

 

“I’m fine,” Eddie grunted. “I can walk.”

 

Steve tried to put a hand on his back, gently. Eddie’s arms were wrapped around himself. He was shivering. Steve was a bit upset that they’d discharged him like this, even if they said his fever had improved.

 

They walked to the steps by the front door, where Eddie clutched the handrail as he climbed slowly. Steve followed patiently, waiting as Eddie made his way up the steps. He dug his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out the keys. Eddie’s hand had moved to his pocket as well, but he paused and waited as Steve unlocked the door.

 

Steve let out a breath as he shut the door behind them, and set down the brown bag from the pharmacy on the counter, while Eddie shuffled over to the couch and sat down heavily. The doctor had given him a list of medications and when to take them. It would be a few hours until any next doses, so Steve just removed them from the bag and set them on the counter, then found a small medicine cup and placed it beside them.

 

“Did you have anything to eat?” Steve asked, breaking the silence. He looked up at Eddie from behind the counter.

 

Eddie heaved a sigh and glanced downward. “I did. Then I got dizzy, and threw up.”

 

Oh. Steve’s gaze shifted back to the countertop. His eyes caught on the soup he’d made. He took in a steady breath, and looked back at Eddie with sympathy.

 

“You need to get something in you,” Steve said softly.

 

“Don’t want to throw up again.”

 

“Just try. A little bit.” Steve pulled the thermos out of the plastic bag. “Please,” he said, with contained urgency.

 

Eddie stared at him from the couch. Steve’s hands were already moving, twisting off the lid of the thermos and pouring some into a mug. He came over to the couch and put the mug on the coffee table, in front of Eddie.

 

Eddie’s weary gaze froze on the mug. He sniffled, and let out a shaky breath. A weak hand reached out and held the spoon. He stirred it once, and then slowly lifted the mug by the handle to take a sip of the broth. He lowered the mug back onto the table.

 

“Just… finish what you can, and… try to get some sleep, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Eddie responded, in a way that only said the opposite. Maybe he’d try. The chances made Steve want to cry, but he’d have to stop thinking about it, because he was probably only going to stay until Wayne got home. That was probably for the best.

 

Steve nodded faintly to himself a bit. Eddie slowly put a piece of carrot in his mouth. From the next couple of spoons, he did look like he’d been hungry. After a bit, Steve turned and started to walk past the kitchen and down the hall.

 

“Where are you going?” Eddie asked softly.

 

“Bathroom,” Steve breathed, and headed off to the other end of the hall. As he was walking, he pulled a small box from a shelf near the kitchen.

 

Steve went to the other side of the trailer to use the bathroom, but he didn’t come back right after he was done. He took a hand towel from the rack and ran it under the faucet. Then quietly, he turned right and slipped into Eddie’s room. He hung the damp towel on the back of Eddie’s chair, then as quietly as he could, he removed the pillows and sheet from on top of the mattress, and put the sheet and pillowcases into the hamper. He peeled the fitted sheet off the mattress, and threw that in the hamper too. There was a new stain on the side of the mattress, joining faded others. Steve took the damp hand towel and scrubbed lightly at it. After that, he took the small box he retrieved - baking soda. He sprinkled a light layer over the damp area on the mattress.

 

“Steve?” Steve glanced back to see Eddie standing in the doorway. “You don’t… You didn’t have to do that,” he breathed.

 

Steve exhaled softly and took the damp towel from the back of the chair. “Don’t worry about it,” he said gently, giving Eddie a soft glance. He put the towel in the hamper with the sheets, and passed through the doorway to put back the baking soda.

 

“You know what?” Eddie croaked. “I am fucking worrying about it, Steve.”

 

As he slid the box back onto the shelf, Steve turned back to face Eddie, who stood there shaking. After a beat, his eyes connected with Steve’s.

 

“Do you not have a place where you need to be? Don’t I have a place where I need to be? I could be out doing my thing if I wasn’t so bad at dealing with shit that happened a long time ago, and you wouldn’t have to be dealing with my- my literal vomit,” Eddie’s voice cracked, as the words spilled out.

 

Steve stood there by the shelf. His fingers fidgeted with his watch, as he inwardly trembled. 

 

“Eddie, it’s not your fault.”

 

“Don’t say it’s not my fault!” He was yelling now, which was an endeavour - the words came out weak and scratchy, his voice harnessed by a sore throat. “Okay, every time I sit on that sofa, I can see it happening. I-I-I brought her here, and- and she’s standing there, and she’s- she’s scared-”

 

“Eddie.”

 

“I was gonna give her ketamine, Steve.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I don’t-” Eddie shook his head. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he blinked. “I don’t know what to do. *snrff!* It keeps happening. I-It’s not real, but it keeps playing in my head, and now you-”

 

“Eddie-”

 

“You have to keep doing this, and all I want is for us to just go live somewhere else and we can’t even do that because-”

 

“Eddie, it’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

 

“It is my fault,” he sobbed.

 

“It’s not. It’s not your fault.”

 

Steve had reached out to touch Eddie’s shoulder, despite the fear of his reaction to it last night. Eddie stumbled toward him - his head collided with Steve’s chest, and Steve brought both his arms around him. His fingers sunk into Eddie’s hair, as his whole frame trembled against his. Steve stared at the wall behind Eddie, gently stroking his hair, his other arm wrapped tightly around his waist.

 

It was quiet and dim. The air smelled of cheap lemon-scented cleaner and cigarette smoke. The floor tiles needed sweeping, but they shone in the warm light coming from the kitchen. The sky outside was grey, and the wind had discouraged the buds on the trees from growing. But inside, the kitchen light was warm.

 

-

 

The two sat on the porch in silence, watching the trees sway in the wind. The fresh air was good. Eddie was still wearing Steve’s grey jacket, pulling the wrist cuffs over his cold hands. His dark, wavy bangs were tousled gently across his forehead as a soft breeze went by.

 

“I’m… really sorry I yelled.” Eddie said, after a while. 

 

Steve peeked sideways at him. His eyes flickered downward at the wooden deck. “Sorry I wasn’t listening hard enough,” he said softly, and glanced sideways again. Eddie’s expression had softened. He put his hand on top of Steve’s.

 

A car rolled by in the distance. Steve breathed in the fresh air, the smell of the damp soil. The damp wood and cigarette smoke.

 

“Would you… want to come stay at my place?” Steve asked slowly, treading carefully. He would need to go back inside and clean up the baking soda, and his next move had been to get Eddie to lie down again. But it was sinking in, the weight of what he was trying to say. He’d need to figure something out for the both of them. For Eddie. Right now though, he just wanted to focus on making him feel safe and comfortable.

 

“You’d let me infect your entire household?” Eddie chuckled dryly, and sniffled.

 

“Well, no one to really infect at the moment. Except me, maybe. But you know,” Steve tilted his head back casually. “At this point there’s really no hope for me.”

 

“Mmf,” Eddie grunted, with a faint, but real grin. Steve lifted his hand and kissed it, then got up from the couch.

 

“Stay here, okay?”

 

“Why- No, don’t leave me here.” Eddie grabbed gently at Steve’s arm, staring up at him.

 

“I’m just gonna pack some stuff to bring,” Steve breathed, holding the hand that Eddie had caught him with. “I’ll be quick.”

 

“I’ll come,” Eddie said softly. Then, as Steve was turning away- “What’s this? Who- Did my uncle come by?” Eddie’s attention had shifted to the windowsill. Steve felt his stomach sink, as Eddie looked over into the ashtray.

 

“Um,” Steve mumbled. “No, that’s- …it’s mine.”

 

“I thought you stopped.”

 

“I did.”

 

“Then-”

 

“It was a one-time thing, I- I got stressed out.”

 

“Stressed out.”

 

“School. And… things,” Steve exhaled, brushing a few strands of hair away from his forehead.

 

“You’re-” Eddie was about to say, then paused. His eyes were elsewhere, his fingers hanging intertwined with Steve’s.

 

“What? Eddie, don’t worry about me. It was-“ Steve reached over and picked up the cigarette but with two fingers. “It was just one.”

 

Eddie’s eyes were still blank, unfocused. His fingers pulled away from Steve as he shifted back. He reached into the pocket on the inside of Steve’s jacket, and retrieved the box. “...I thought you said you stopped.”

 

“I…” Steve swayed a little bit. “May not have. Completely.”

 

“Wow,” Eddie said softly, pouting thoughtfully. 

 

“I know, I’m a hypocrite.” Steve sat down again beside him, staring down at the wooden porch.

 

There was a quiet pause. “Your words,” Eddie muttered, staring at the box in his hands. Without looking up, he held it out to Steve. “Here,” he said flatly.

 

Steve paused. 

 

“Do what you want with them. I’m not the boss of you.”

 

The ending phrase was plain and simple. No joking innuendo.

 

Steve took the box from Eddie. Glancing down at it, he sighed softly and tucked the ashy cigarette butt inside with the rest of them. He got up and walked over to a large plant pot that stood in front of the edge of the porch, filled up halfway with rain water. Heaving another breath, he extended his hand, and let the box slip out of his fingers, into the pot with a soft splash. Then he turned back to Eddie, who was now watching him with an eerie focus. Steve gave a light shrug.

 

“Well, that’s two-fifty down the drain,” Eddie deadpanned.

 

Steve crouched and reached down below the porch deck, and pulled the soggy box of cigarettes out of the water, dripping into the pot.

 

“Lovely,” was Eddie’s next comment, with a crinkled nose.

 

Steve stood there for a moment, holding the gross, dripping mass of paper between his fingertips. He faked a move like he was going to toss it at Eddie, who flinched slightly.

 

“Try it, dude,” he threatened, and Steve smirked slightly, cringing a little at the soggy object.

 

Steve shook the box a little over the end of the porch so that it wasn’t dripping too much, then took a couple of steps back. “I’m gonna toss these,” he said, holding the mushy paper between his fingers. He paused at the door, turning back towards Eddie. “We’ll leave in ten, yeah?” 

 

Eddie looked vaguely amused. Steve was never really sure if he was good with symbolism, but he felt like what he just did, while a waste, and frankly kind of gross, was pretty damn poetic. To bank on poetry or whatever the hell that was, wouldn’t be easy, but nothing about this day had been easy. Here he was, ready to take him away to somewhere safe.

 

“...Sure. Whatever,” Eddie murmured, his hair falling around his face like curtains as his gaze shifted toward his feet. He felt Steve put a hand on his shoulder and kiss him on top of his head.

 

After Steve slipped inside, Eddie lifted his head slowly. His eyes raised to scan across the porch, and the view of the rest of the trailer park, framed by grass and metal wire fences. Sights that had been the same for years. He wasn’t even sure how long that dirty pot had been there, covering the same circle of grass at the end of the porch. Eddie tugged absentmindedly at the cuffs of Steve’s grey jacket. After a bit, he slowly rose to his feet, and went inside.

[funbusej]

Ah, my 2 favorite boys written by my favorite writer!!  Nobody can angst as well as they can.  Nobody. 

[Skylacticon]

Hey again.

@funbusej Thanks, you're so sweet. ❤️ Also, agreed.

Back with the third and final part of this lil fic~

 

Part 3

 

“I brought these for you,” Steve said gently, putting a set of clothes on the edge of the bed next to Eddie. He’d packed Eddie a comfy pair of red flannel pyjama bottoms, and an oversized black t-shirt, with a faded Metallica logo.

 

“Thanks,” Eddie breathed. 

 

Steve glanced around. Eddie hadn’t finished the tea in the travel cup, which sat on the edge of his desk. He still had his old mini calendar out from last year. It was a gift from Robin, which had funny pictures of cats. Since he was so busy and wasn’t always around, he hadn’t been consistent with changing the calendar each day. The missed days piled up, which resulted in many unseen adorable cats - although each time he returned to it, it made his mood a little lighter.

 

Facing the window, Steve caught sight of Eddie’s back as he slowly pulled off his grey t-shirt. Things had been like that ever since the Upside Down battle - slow, hesitant. Achy. Eddie sat in the natural light from the window, folding his shirt. Pink and white scars scrawled across his upper body, around his neck and arms, down his shoulder blades and waist. Eddie tilted his stiff neck from side to side. All other thoughts dissolving away, Steve came over and climbed onto the bed to sit behind Eddie.

 

Steve’s cool breath tickled Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie peeked behind him, then his frame descended with an amused exhale.

 

“Like what you see, Harrington?” he breathed out in a low chuckle, folding his used shirt and putting it on the edge of the nightstand.

 

“Mhm.” Steve put his palm over the dragon tattoo on the back of Eddies right bicep, a blackwork image that had been slashed and scarred over. His fingers curled around Eddie’s arm, and he leaned around Eddie’s left shoulder to kiss him slowly on the neck. Then, he rested his chin on his shoulder. Eddie tilted his head, touching the side of his temple to Steve’s. He peeked at him through dark, frizzy bangs. The hint of a grin softened Eddie’s features, as he pulled at the shirt that Steve had brought him.

 

“You need anything? Tylenol? Advil?” Steve murmured, his chin digging into Eddie’s shoulder as he spoke.

 

“I’m cold, hon,” he said softly, gently patting Steve’s thigh. Steve lifted his chin so that Eddie could pull on the shirt. Eddie’s features tightened in a slight grimace, carefully bending his arms and pulling them through the shirt holes. Steve moved back to help him put it on. “I could use some Advil,” he breathed, rolling his sore shoulder.

 

“Yeah? Okay,” Steve put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, and kissed the top of his head. “I’ll be back.” Just as he was about to leave the room, Steve heard a soft sound. 

 

“‘ISCHhiuh!! - oh no…” Eddie sighed. Steve glanced back to see Eddie’s shoulder blades tensing, and the crook of his arm lift to his face. “heh’DZSCHhh!! … *snrf*”

 

“Gesundheit,” Steve said softly. He walked over to his desk and picked up the tissue box, then handed it to Eddie, who blinked up at him from behind his elbow.

 

“Thank- ‘rRSCHH!!-hmnh - Thank you,” Eddie mumbled stuffily. He put the tissue box down beside him and pulled one out, his eyes narrowing as he began to fold it. He brought it to his face just in time to catch a winding fourth. “huh’ISSCHH!! …agh. Jesus, *snrf!* -hd’yieESSCHHIU!! *snrff*… Oh, by god.” he muttered, blinking watery eyes.

 

“Bless you,” Steve said sympathetically, gently running a hand over Eddie’s back.

 

“Wait, there’s- hd‘ISSCHH!! *snrf* twomore- hih’zZSCHHhhiew!! *sdrf!*” Eddie sniffled, deep and wet, blinking watery eyes. “Wow. You ever, like, sneeze so hard it makes your back hurt?” he croaked, peeking up at Steve.

 

“How old are you again?”

 

“Oh, fuck you... *sdrf!*” Eddie sniffled hard again, and exhaled through his mouth.

 

“Kidding. Yes, I know, it sucks,” Steve breathed, feeling Eddie’s shoulder blades rise and fall as he took a deep breath, then tense slightly as he cleared his phlegmy throat. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

 

“‘Kay.” Eddie pinched Steve’s thigh before he moved away, snuffling into the folded tissues.

 

“Ow!” Steve turned around and smirked. He pulled the comforter that lay on the edge of the bed, and grabbed the ends lengthwise, then threw it over Eddie.

 

“Pfft! Hey!” Eddie spluttered from underneath.

 

Grinning, Steve pulled back the comforter to expose Eddie’s head, then wrapped him snugly in the blanket, like a swaddled baby. Or more like a grumpy igloo with the exit on the top. Eddie frowned at Steve, then sniffled drippily and wiped his nose with the tissues.

 

“Is that nice and warm?”

 

“Not nearly enough for my ice cold heart,” Eddie grumbled dramatically, pulling the warm comforter around his shoulders. He was beginning to look quite comfy.

 

“Not even if I do this?” Steve propped on knee on the bed and wrapped his arms around Eddie.

 

“Oof,” Eddie grunted. “Ooh, that is nice and warm,” he murmured, sinking into it for a moment. Steve stayed like that, his arms sheltering the swaddled igloo that was Eddie. Then, after a bit, “Steve, my shoulder. You’re- ow-“ Eddie winced, and Steve drew back gently.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“No, you’re good,” Eddie let the comforter fall loosely around him, and massaged his right shoulder with his left hand.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” When Eddie saw the concern on Steve’s face, he shifted his expression. “Someone’s getting a handle on the moves,” he teased, with his best sly grin.

 

Steve seemed to have glitched a little. He let out a flustered scoff, and stood up from the bed. “Oh, can it, nerd,” he huffed, and came closer to examine Eddie’s shoulder. “How long has it been bad?”

 

Eddie sniffled and lifted a wrist to cough. “Uh, you know. It’s off and on, but it might just be whatever flu - plague - thing I’ve got going on, just making it worse,” he answered quietly, trying not to flinch as Steve gently ran his thumb over his inner bicep, near the area that hurt.

 

“Want a hot water bottle, maybe it’ll help?” Steve breathed, brushing some strands of hair out of Eddie’s face. “And some Advil.”

 

“Maybe,” Eddie mumbled, and shifted his weight again.

 

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Steve leaned over and kissed him on the top of his head.

 

From the hallway, Steve could hear heavy, drenched blows from the bedroom. There were a few muffled coughs, and rough attempts to clear his throat.

 

-

 

A few minutes later, Eddie could hear Steve’s voice downstairs. It sounded like he was talking on the phone. He got up out of his warm cocoon on the bed, and stepped over to the door.

 

“Okay. Yeah, of course. No, I know, I… Yeah. Okay. Okay, see you. You too, have a good night. Of course, no worries. Alright. Bye.” There was a click as Steve put down the receiver. There was a beat of silence that followed, that felt rather pensive. It passed quickly, as Eddie heard Steve sniff and start to head back toward the stairs. He spied Eddie in the doorway, and nodded to him. 

 

“Who was that?” Eddie inquired, as Steve came into the room and began to set down a few items on top of the desk.

 

“Your uncle.” The pills rattled in the canister as Steve pressed down the lid to twist it open. “Just letting him know where you are,” he said calmly, then turned to Eddie with a pill in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

 

“You tell him about the hospital?” Eddie pressed.

 

Steve took a small breath before answering. “Yeah. I did.” Eddie took the pill from Steve’s palm and downed it with the water, eyeing him the entire time. “He’s glad you’re okay.”

 

Eddie sat on the bed, staring blankly at Steve’s horrid line-patterned wallpaper. Then he sniffled, and blinked twice, rapidly. “Yeah,” he said softly, his gaze shifting up to look at Steve - who came around to sit next to him, and held the hot water bottle against his sore shoulder.

 

“Not that…” Steve began, having won himself a moment’s silence as Eddie relaxed under the warmth. “Not that you’re okay-okay, but…” Eddie glanced at him sideways, as Steve did that thing where in a pinch, he’d tried to find words on the next wall he’d laid eyes on. “He’s just… glad you’re safe. And, not… trying to embark on a tour while you’re sick.”

 

Eddie’s hand finally came up to hold the hot water bottle in place. “His words or yours?”

 

There may have been lines on Steve’s wallpaper, but not in a speakable language. 

 

“There was… there might have been a mutual agreement, of us both, on that.” The words came out slowly. Eddie turned to look at Steve, whose gaze shifted from the wallpaper over to meet Eddie’s. His brown eyes were soft, and this time Eddie didn’t try to look away when he saw the concern within them. “Hey, we’ll figure it out,” Steve said gently, and put a hand on top of Eddie’s free hand.

 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathed. It was a short, but heavy response. He knew what it meant for Steve. Moments like this gave him a window of clarity. Though fleeting, it was a chance for hope - real hope. 

 

“C’mere.” Steve lifted his legs onto the bed, and pulled back the comforter, making space for Eddie. “Lie down.”

 

Eddie watched with tired eyes, and let his hand holding the hot water bottle descend from his shoulder. He set the bottle down next to the pillows, then crawled over to Steve and laid his head down on his chest. He shut his eyes, trying to let the sound of Steve’s heartbeat distract him from the lump in his throat.

 

Steve pulled the soft comforter over them both, keeping a hand on Eddie’s back. He reached out to grab the hot water bottle next to his head. He dragged it over and let it rest on top of Eddie’s sore shoulder. Then he lowered his chin to give the top of his head another soft kiss, and gently stroked his dark, frizzy hair.

 

As if returning to normal, the Harrington house was quiet, as it always had been. But, for the first time in about three days, Eddie Munson finally drifted off to sleep.

[emma]

Literally perfect!! Thank you for this ❤️ 

[Prongs]

Yes, yes, yes. From the angst to the hurt/comfort of it all to the sneezing and gentle caretaking, this is so sweet and presses all the right buttons. Thank you! ❤️

[Skylacticon]

@emma @Prongs Thanks, I try. Glad to see the Eddie fans are still around.