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Steve won’t talk to him.
At first, Eddie believes it’s the anniversary effect gripping his boyfriend’s psyche—Nancy spaces out a lot more frequently than usual and Robin has been uncharacteristically quiet in their infrequent get-togethers, a stark contrast from her expected hyper self. Eddie himself isn’t doing so hot either, craving the reassuring contact of Steve’s arms encircled around him and soft nothings whispered into his ear, but each time he calls his house phone, he’s met with the dial tone. Whenever he feels the faint apparitions of supernatural bats sinking their claws into his back, stomach, and every point of his skin left exposed to the crepuscular atmosphere of the Upside Down or remembers the sickening crunch of Chrissy’s bones as she had levitated in vivid detail, he has the urge to sprint to Steve’s house.
But Steve probably won’t answer anyway, and as worried as Eddie is, he’s also growing a bit irritated with him. He’d have left the house himself but he doesn’t want to worry Uncle Wayne any more than he has already worried. The man nearly had a heart attack last year when he’d returned on the brink of death, pallid and unresponsive in the hospital he was soon transported to. He thinks the man could probably use less stress in his life if it can be avoided given the wide-eyed looks he’s been giving Eddie recently, like he can’t believe he’s sprawled across the couch and not a trick of the eyes.
Eddie knows the other boy isn’t the best communicator in the world, fumbling over his words more than he used to for reasons he hasn’t disclosed but Eddie hasn’t done anything to his knowledge that would warrant Steve’s avoidance.
“I’m thinking of breaking and entering,” he confesses to a vaguely disinterested Robin. “It’s almost been two weeks.”
“I could try to get him out of the house again if you want,” she says after a moment of consideration. She blows a chewing-gum bubble, leg bouncing wildly though she doesn’t seem to notice.
“It’s just- he always calls me back even if he’s having a bad day. Annoying as shit that he won’t visit either. You don’t have to,” replies Eddie.
“No, it’s okay. If it makes you feel better, he isn’t talking to any of us, I think.”
Eddie appreciates the attempt at sympathy but his stomach drops at the implication that Steve really is isolating himself (away from Eddie) on purpose. He remembers King Steve all too well, the contempt Steve used to hold for the general student body if they were deemed anything that Eddie prides himself on. He tries not to linger on the thought too much; the past is the past and all that but he still remembers their shared English class when Steve would whisper to his douchebag of a friend Tommy when Eddie would be regaling the class with a last-minute shoddy presentation.
When he asked Steve if he knew Eddie from high school, he only blankly stared back at him, a question mark written across his face, so he had changed the subject.
“I’ve decided I wanna get high. Do you care to join me, fair maiden?” He says, cracking a smile, hoping she will get the hint. Robin does, lips drawing into a tight smile as she declines his offer.
“I hate when you call me that!”
He eventually catches a glimpse of Steve, an hour late to the hang-out that had been established days prior. Steve must be on speaking terms with someone in what Eddie refers to as the Party of Teenage Hell Survivors if he had known to make an appearance here. He resembles what Eddie thinks he looked like in the hospital, pale and sickly and ultimately, he ends up in his orbit in the blink of an eye because when doesn’t he?
“Hey,” says Steve. “I’ve missed you so, so much,” he tacks on as he wrestles Eddie into a bone-crushing hug, the kind that would normally leave him lost for words and gasping for breath but instead he settles himself, a simple hand curled around Steve’s forearm.
“Wish you’d show it,” he says, and Steve withdraws, darting furtive glances at him like he truly believes Eddie won’t notice.
Eddie puffs on his cigarette, watching it billow out of the bathroom window. He should probably apologize; Steve hasn’t lost the kicked-puppy look he’s been sporting for the evening so far and Nancy keeps narrowing her eyes at the two of them as if psychically willing them to speak.
Someone bangs on the bathroom door. “Man, hurry up!” complains Jonathan, obviously high off his ass from the deep scratchiness of his voice. There’s another defeated thunk as Eddie leisurely smokes before footsteps shuffle away and he rolls his eyes, flicking the extinguished butt out of the window. He can’t talk Nancy and Jonathan’s ears off forever, excellent distractions thus far but he could do without the gooey expressions and the hand-holding and the other subtle, couple behaviors the two subconsciously engage in; he’s only bitterly reminded of Steve tracing reverent circles around his ringed fingers, trading time for kisses.
He eventually leaves the bathroom, ushering in a comically bulge-eyed Jonathan standing a few feet from the door, stifling a quiet laugh before he turns around and Steve’s at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall.
Steve lifts his hand in a dutiful wave, the glow of a lamp reflecting off of him and his stupid, greasy hair that shouldn’t make him more alluring but Eddie’s never had the best taste in men.
“You missed me, huh?” He dares to ask, crossing his arms as he joins him against the wall, ignoring the bewildered glance from Nancy.
“I did. I do,” says Steve slowly, if not a bit sadly. His tired eyes are trained on Eddie, fingers dangling achingly close but never quite touching. He looks like he’s searching him for something, almost as if he’s digging a futile hole in pursuit of an answer neither of them know. “Can I- can we talk?”
Eddie swallows the sudden lump in his throat. In his limited lifespan, people asking to talk to him in that tone of voice, mimicking Steve’s exact mannerisms, never tell him what he wants to hear. First, it was Ben from P.E. pulling him aside in the vacant locker room and subsequently ending his first relationship (if it could even be called that) with another boy. Then, it was Justin from practice with Corroded Coffin, requesting to speak with him about his lyrics and escalating into a screaming match littered with slurs and personal grievances that ended with Justin’s departure from the band. The point is, Eddie’s used to the burgeoning disappointment of one-on-one discussions with people he grows to care about.
“Sure thing, Harrington. You don’t want a little more privacy?” Eddie asks, winking at him despite the panic laced in his ribcage.
“Actually, yeah, let’s go talk in Nancy’s room,” says Steve, lips pursed so hard they form little more than a thin line, and he trudges up the stairs like a prisoner marching to his execution.
The door closes. The lock clicks. Eddie elects to take a seat on the floor, supporting his weight with his forearms as he stares up at Steve, who has begun pacing the center of the room.
“So? Are you gonna say anything?” Eddie asks, more irritable than he’d meant to sound. He leans into it though, the steady stream of anger sizzling in his chest, waiting for a chance to rear its ugly head. Better that than dissolving into snot and tears in front of somebody about to break up with him.
“Sorry, I’m just- trying to figure out where I should start.”
“Oh good, not like you kept me waiting for weeks or anything.”
Steve stops pacing then, mouth twisted into a complicated frown. “I didn’t want to ignore you.” He drops to the floor, copying Eddie’s position as he slouches against Nancy’s bed frame, nudging his foot closer but thinking better of it at the last second when it drops limply to the side.
“Okay? I’m all ears,” Eddie drawls, cupping a hand around his ear in a further show of theatrics.
“I think- um, so. Well… I came out to my parents.”
Eddie’s mouth involuntarily hangs open as Steve hangs his head, running a stressed hand through his already mussed hair. “I told them about you and that we’ve been together for a few months now, that I think it’s something serious. Was something serious?” He pauses, leveling Eddie with an insecure expression, one that doesn’t belong on a face as earnest as his as he sighs heavily. “Anyway, I haven’t been talking to you because I was sort of banned from seeing you again. Uh—as long as I live under their roof, and it’s not like any of us have much money to get a place of our own, and I was thinking maybe I’m just not worth all the trouble.”
Eddie’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop and drop it has. “I’m sorry your parents are complete assholes. Uncle would’ve let you stay with me—or you could’ve told them you were staying with Robin.”
“I could’ve, yeah. Wasn’t thinking much beyond the whole problem of my parents threatening to send me to conversion therapy if I didn’t agree to sort myself out.”
“Oh,” says Eddie. A stagnant lull. Nancy’s clock ticks away in the corner. Steve stares at him, gaze soft but hard as a stone all at once. He wonders how Steve does it: how he manages to appear intimidating and cuddly simultaneously. Just another of life’s little mysteries he won’t foreseeably solve.
“I like dating you though. I had some time to think about what my life would look like without you as my boyfriend, or as a friend, and I don’t want this to come to an end because of my parents. I understand if you don’t want to… if you want to break up with me,” replies Steve, etching crescent moons into his palms as he meets Eddie’s eyes once more, resolve cracking by the second.
“Fuck, I thought you dragged me up here to break up with me. What makes you think I’m done?” asks Eddie, shifting his weight to his torso after his arms have become staticky, deciding against joining Steve perched along the bedframe.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d forgive me for ignoring you for almost half a month. Any girl I’ve dated before would’ve dumped me for less than that,” he admits with a pained grimace, messing with his hair more.
“Lucky for you that you’re not dating a girl,” remarks Eddie with a raise of his eyebrows. “And I was pretty mad at you. Still kind of am. But I don’t stay mad too long at pretty boys who tell me why they’ve decided to forget I exist, especially those with crappy parents.”
Steve sort of smiles at that, a light and pleased one that Eddie hasn’t seen in two weeks. He’s forgotten how much he missed the easy warmth of it. “Oh. That’s- that’s good. You’ll have to let me make it up to you.”
“Presumptuous of you, big boy,” says Eddie with a smirk, engaging Steve in a half-hearted game of footsie as Steve laughs, finally allowing himself to spread out more on the scratchy carpeting of Nancy’s bedroom. “I would appreciate it if you would let me support you through major life events, just for future reference.”
“I’m not ignoring you on purpose ever again, those two weeks were hell. I don’t even know how to begin to talk about how shitty it was.”
“That’s because I wasn’t around; the light of your life, your North Star, your knight in shining armor come to rescue you from your big, bad parents, your-“ Eddie says, edging nearer to Steve until he’s straddling his lap to Steve’s delight. His arms wrap around Eddie’s waist like it’s an instinct of his, head burrowing into his chest while Eddie revels in the simple freedom of touching his boyfriend again. He trails an appreciative hand down Steve’s bicep, the other curling in his hair as he yanks Steve’s head up with a bit of a tug, earning a disgruntled grumble.
“I love you, would love you more if you’d stop with the dorky nicknames for yourself,” says Steve, the grin adorning his features stating otherwise.
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” replies Eddie, placing a hand over his chest mockingly; it lays forgotten at his side the moment Steve’s lips ghost over his collarbone, hot breath spilling out in intoxicating swirls, and Eddie forgets how to function for that brief moment.
“Thank you,” he breathes more than says into Eddie’s skin, pressing rapid kisses to the divot of his collarbone. When Eddie asks what for in a half whimper, half moan, Steve replies for being him in the gentlest voice he’s ever heard. He forgets to be mad in the stolen moments of time they’ve carved out for themselves upstairs in the Wheeler’s house, and wonders instead how he’d survived this long absence of the inviting press of Steve’s body against his. Weeks feel like years.
“I can think of a million ways I’d like to make things up to you but I don’t think I should thank you properly in my ex-girlfriend’s room,” says Steve after a few minutes of his tongue in Eddie’s mouth, leaving Eddie an odd mixture of disappointed and turned on.
“All right. We should talk about your living situation later too,” suggests Eddie, reluctantly removing himself from Steve’s lap.
“We will,” says Steve like a promise, looping an arm around his shoulders once they’ve both stood, and with one last glance shared between them, they shake their heads and return to the party.