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blaqcats-fics · 1 year

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(He's) Just a Phase — Part 2

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 3.3K

March 1989

'I can't do this anymore!'

Steve flinched at the loudness in Eddie's voice. He looked at him, taking in the frown lines on his face and how his eyes nearly glowed in anger.

He had expected this. He had been waiting for the ball to drop eventually. There had been signs over the past month that he had picked up. It was small things that Steve was sure Eddie didn't notice he was doing.

First, it was just something small. It could have always been superficial to Eddie, but to Steve, it had always been something bigger, something more. It was a habit that Eddie had always had, and Steve wasn't sure Eddie knew he had done it.

Steve worked nights most of the time, meaning his schedule was the opposite of Eddie's. It had been hard, but they had made it work. They made sure they received the same days off so that they could spend time with each other. On the long days, Eddie would leave the hall light on when he went to bed before Steve got home.

It again wasn't much, but it was something.

When Steve came home, and the light wasn't on, Steve felt his chest tighten. Something was wrong. He did something wrong. Of course, against his better judgment and not openly communicating with Eddie, Steve kept his mouth closed and moved on.

The next tell was more significant. It gave an indication that Eddie knew what he was doing. It wasn't as superficial because they made sure of it together.

Eddie scheduled his band practice on their day off -- the day they used for date night. But, in true Steve fashion, he kept his mouth shut. So it didn't matter if Steve laid in bed all day, crying to Robin, trying to figure out what he did.

The other things fell into place after that, like ducks in a row, until he ended up facing Eddie's frustration.

'I'm sorry,' Steve mumbled.

Eddie gritted his teeth. 'And what are you sorry for, Steve? Please enlighten me!'

Steve wasn't sure. 'I, uh,' he licked his lips, gaze flickering to anywhere but Eddie's face.

'You don't know!' Eddie snapped.

Steve pursed his lips shut. 'No,' he said.

'That's the problem. You're so absorbed in your own head to not even notice what you're doing!' Eddie laughed. It was a bitter sound, and Steve felt a spear stab through his heart.

'I'm not,' Steve argued weakly. 'I thought we were fine.'

'You thought wrong,' Eddie exclaimed. 'I'm miserable, Steve. I'm tired. I'm tired of waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and realize that world isn't going to eat you alive.'

'What is this about?' Steve asked, his voice rising. He needed clarification. He needed things spelled out for him. He was terrible at reading between the lines, even if he knew he should be better at it.

'It's about you not wanting to be seen with me,' Eddie snapped. 'Or you don't want anyone to know about us. You either tell people were friends or that were fucking roommates. Dustin doesn't even know we're together!'

Steve flinched. 'That's not true,' he said. 'You know I love you-'

'You don't show it very well,' Eddie cut him off.

'Don't give me that!' Steve said, frowning. 'I didn't have my whole life to figure out I was bisexual! I'm sorry that I'm not ready to come out!'

'What do you have to lose, Steve?' Eddie hissed. 'You don't have anyone who would look at you differently! Your parents couldn't give a fuck about you, and everyone else would love you no matter what! What's so fucking scary, Steve? Why is it so hard to let people close to us know?'

Steve swallowed, tears stinging his eyes. Hurt flooded his system. It was a low blow on Eddie's part, mentioning his parents. It wasn't like Eddie was wrong. His parents didn't care about him. They especially didn't care about Steve after discovering all the 'scandalous' things that Steve was involved with. 'I just, um. I'm not ready, Eddie. I don't know what else you want me to say.'

Eddie laughed, 'Fuck, I don't know. That you'll try? That you'll tell at least Dustin! It's like you are ashamed to be with me!'

He was silent.

Eddie wasn't far from the truth.

Steve was ashamed but never of Eddie. There wasn't a fiber in Steve's bones that could ever be ashamed of Eddie. Steve was only ashamed of himself. He didn't know why he was, but every time Steve looked in the mirror, he felt disgusted with himself. He felt as if God would strike him down at any given moment for just enjoying kissing a man.

Nothing had to do with Eddie. Everything just had to do with Steve.

'Not everything has to deal with you, Eddie,' Steve said, voice tense. 'Nothing I've done about hiding my sexuality has to deal with you. I'm not ready. I don't know when I'll ever be ready!'

Eddie stared at Steve, expression unchanging. 'I'm not going to wait anymore.'

Steve felt his stomach drop. 'What does that mean?'

'It means what it means. I'm not going to sit here unhappy. I can't keep waiting for you to be ready,' Eddie said.

'Are you breaking up with me?' Steve asked, his voice shaking.

'I guess I am,' Eddie said.

'But,' Steve began, stumbling over the singular word.

Eddie shook his head. 'It's done. We're done.'

Steve bit his lip and nodded. He looked down at his lap, unmoving. What would he do, promise to try to get him to stay? He wanted to beg him to stay, but Steve knew he shouldn't. Not when any promises he made wouldn't be kept.

'Fucking hell, you have nothing to say, do you?' Eddie shook his head. 'I'm leaving. I'll be back this weekend to get my shit.'

Steve could only watch him walk out of the door.

He didn't move from the spot and wasn't sure how long he had sat there, staring blankly at the don't, trying to understand what had happened.

This wasn't like Nancy.

It was worse.

Because before, Steve had felt something — rage, disappointment, sadness. Right now, at this moment, felt hollow, as if a part of him had been removed.

It was when Eddie was actually gone that Steve called Robin. She moved to Dallas after graduation, and Steve only saw her two weeks out of the year. But, she had stayed Steve’s rock, and Steve in return her’s.

The dial tone echoed in his ear as he leaned against the doorway, staring into his bedroom. Besides the trillion tiny holes left over by the thumbtacks holding Eddie’s countless posters, the walls were empty. The bed had only two pillows, both plaid and ugly, a reminder that Eddie had been the one to hoard an enormous amount of pillows — a reminder that Steve’s favorite pillow had belonged to Eddie.

‘Buckley speaking,’ Robin’s voice filled the silence.

Steve’s lips twitched. ‘Hey, Birdie,’ he greeted.

‘Dingus!’ she cheered. ‘I was wondering when you were going to call.’

Steve pursed his lips, 'Yeah, sorry. It's been a rough week.'

‘Eddie picking up shifts again?’ she asked.

‘Uh, um,’ Steve rubbed his lips together, fighting the tears and tightness in his chest. ‘No,’ he managed to gasp out.

Robin was silent momentarily before her soft voice echoed on the receiver. ‘Stevie, what’s wrong?’

Steve found himself unwinding at the seams at the simple question, a loud, ugly sob choking out of him. ‘He’s gone, Robin. He left!’ he cried, the words rushed out and barely audible.

‘What? What do you mean he left?’ Robin exclaimed loudly in the line.

'We broke up,' Steve cried, his chest heaving as he cried harder. 'I fucked up, Robbie. It's all my fault he's gone!'

'Steve, honey, I need you to try and breathe for me. Focus on something and take a few deep breaths for me. I can't understand you writing now,' Robin instructed on the phone.

He did as she said. He focused on the black alarm clock on his bedside table, staring at the red glowing numbers. He took a deep breath, hiccupping as he breathed out. He did that for a few minutes.

'Better?' Robin asked.

'Mhm,' Steve vocalized. 'Sorry.'

'Babe, don't apologize,' she said. 'Now what happened?'

Steve closed his eyes, gripping the phone cord and using the wire to ground him. 'Eddie and I broke up a few days ago, maybe almost a week ago. Well, he broke up with me,' he mumbled, voice shaky.

'I thought you were good; you guys were happy,' Robin said.

Steve laughed, his voice bitter, 'Yeah, me too. Apparently not.'

'Do you know if he told you why?'

'I fucked up,' Steve said simply, thinking over the words that Eddie told him just a week ago. 'I didn't want to tell anyone we're together because I'm not ready. I've been pulling away, I guess. I don't know. He's upset that I don't want the relationship because I don't want people to know.'

Robin was quiet, 'Do, or well, did you want people to know?'

'Of course, I do, Birdie,' he said, choking on her nickname. 'I would scream that I love him from the top of a mountain for the whole world to hear, but I just-'

'You aren't ready yet,' Robin said.

'I'm not ready.'

Robin let out a soft sigh. ‘Do you need me to fly to Indianapolis?’ she asked.

Steve immediately shot her down, 'You have classes and work, Birdie. I can deal with this on my own. There's not like there's much to deal with.'

'We both know how you can get when you get lost in your head,' Robin said. 'And I'm going to be honest, I understand where Eddie's coming from. I know it's hard to hide something important from those who matter, but it's not fair to you, either. You can't rush someone to just come out. He should know that it's a terrifying feeling.'

Steve hummed. ‘I guess so,’ he mumbled. ‘I wish I could go back in time and be ready or click a fast-forward button.’

'We'll you can't,' Robin said. 'Don't overthink too much, Stevie. You two broke up, and you never know; in a month, you might end up back together.'

Steve pursed his lips. This wasn't the first time he and Eddie fought. It was different. They would take a few hours away from each other and then talk about it before the night ended. The worst fight ended with Eddie staying the night at Gareth's, but he came home, and they had sorted it out.

Eddie was gone this time. There wasn't a trace of him left in the apartment.

‘Do you think he would have stayed if I had told Dustin?’ Steve asked.

‘Maybe,’ Robin said. ‘But how long would that satisfy Eddie until he wanted more people to know?’

Steve sighed, moving to rub the wetness from his under his eyes. 'I don't know,' he whispered. 'Maybe this isn't bad,' Steve mumbled.

'What's that mean?'

'Maybe I need to work on myself. I'm not like you or Eddie. I haven't gone out much. I haven't really learned anything,' he said. He picked at the end of the Corroded Coffin shirt that he still has. It was worn and full of holes. Eddie had made it two years ago when they had moved to Indianapolis in celebration of getting a gig at a local bar. 'I haven't been open to learning new things. Maybe I should just focus on myself,' he whispered. 'Maybe I hadn't been ready for a relationship with Eddie, and I just jumped into it.'

'I think figuring yourself out would be a good thing,' Robin said. 'And don't doubt rushing into your relationship. You and Eddie would love each other, even if a chapter of your relationship ended.'

'So poetic,' Steve joked weakly.

'I'm minoring in English. I need to be,' Robin jabbed back. 'But seriously, Steve, don't do anything you're uncomfortable with. It'll be better if you find a new routine and get used to being alone. Then start broadening your horizons.'

Steve hummed, 'That'll be a start.'

'Maybe get a pet!' Robin suggested. 'You like animals.'

'To an extent,' Steve sighed.

'Oh, maybe you could call Owens,' Robin said, voice brightening. 'You still have his card, don't you?'

Steve glanced at the drawer by the fridge, 'Yeah, of course, I do. So why would I need to call Owens?'

'To, well, I don't know, actually do what he suggested you did a few years ago,' Robin said as if Steve knew what she was talking about.

'What the hell are you talking about?' Steve asked. 'You know I have the memory of a goldfish.'

'Ugh,' Robin groaned. 'You're helpless,' she said. 'Owens suggested that you start seeing a therapist for your PTSD, which I'm assuming you never did.'

Steve shook his head, 'No. Eddie did, though.'

'Either way, he also suggested you get a service animal. They help, you know. They can clock you when you're on the edge of having an attack. Or you can get one for your migraines. Do they have service dogs for migraines? You should be able to ask Owens. You still have them frequently, right? What do you think about your eyesight? Are you still having trouble seeing it? Or it's the strain you put on your eyes that causes migraines. You may need glasses, Dingus,' Robin rambled.

Steve rolled his eyes, 'You're rambling again, Birdie.'

'Sorry,' she said automatically. 'So?'

'So, what?'

'Dear Christ,' Robin scoffed. 'Are you going to talk to Owens or not?'

Steve frowned, 'I probably should.'

'So call him. Start fixing yourself because a knight and shining armor can't help you,' she said. 'Eddie couldn't help you. I can't help you. You have to do this on your own,' she added. 'Of course, you can like to talk to be, but you have to hold yourself accountable and all that jazz.'

'Fine,' he sighed. 'I'll call Owens.'

'Good!' Robin said. 'My sweet child,' she faked sniffing over the phone, 'growing up into a responsible young man.'

'Dear lord,' Steve laughed. 'Alright, Mom. I have to go. I have work in an hour and apparently have to call Owens.'

'Steve,' Robin said, voice serious.

'Yeah?'

'I love you,' she said. 'You'll get through this.'

'Love you too,' he said softly. 'Thanks.'

'Anytime, Dingus.'

'Do you think you would have ever come if your previous partner had never broken up?' Doctor Newman asked gaze focused on Steve as her pen was settled against the clipboard, prepared to write at a moment's notice.

Steve eyed the pen warily, feeling uncomfortable. Therapy was part of what Owens offered him to help treat his PTSD. While Steve didn't want to sit and be interrogated, he was doing this for himself (and Robin; he didn't want to disappoint her).

'Probably not,' Steve said, honesty laced in his voice.

He doubted it would have ever been a thought on his mind if he and Eddie were still together. Steve would have internalized everything like he had always done. Knowing that thought, Steve knew he wouldn't have a chance to change from who he was or the shell of who he thought he was.

'Why do you think you wouldn't have?' the woman asked.

Steve moved his gaze to the clock, staring at the second hand, watching as it made its way around, counting down the seconds of the minute. 'I wouldn't have realized that there was a problem. I probably would have just done what I did before, internalize everything.'

'I see. Did you need to internalize your feelings because you might have thought they made you less of a person?'

He tensed and shifted uncomfortably. 'Maybe. I don't know. I don't think my feelings are all that important. Like, I, uh, I don't know, I just think there's no need to make a big deal of them.'

Doctor Newman glanced down at her clipboard, writing something down. 'Hm.' She looked up at Steve, tapping her pen gently against the board. 'Well, you're feelings are important, and it's always okay to prioritize your feelings, even if you think that makes you selfish. Being selfish is alright, especially when your mental health will thank you. Sometimes we all need a break, and sometimes we all need to just sit somewhere and feel.'

Steve nodded, taking in her words. 'I get that, I do, but I grew up in a house where feelings were something you put on the back burner. Then with the event from '83 to '86, feelings seemed irrelevant when people around me were hurting worse, who deserved and needed the attention or care.'

'So, despite the trauma that had fallen on you, you believed it to be small compared to those around you?'

'I mean, yeah?' Steve said, confused. 'The kids were going through so much. They needed someone to lean on, to be cool and collected. They needed someone safe. That was me. It had to be me. The adults and the others were all trying to sort through their own issues, and mine seemed so small in comparison.'

'But they weren't,' Doctor Newman said. 'All your problems? They are just as important as everyone else's. You can't compare your trauma to someone else's because everyone experiences trauma differently.' She picked a vanilla folder off the table, opened it, and flipped through a few pages. 'Doctor Owens sent me your file,' she said. 'And I have to say that you have gone through a good bit of trauma, specifically with Starcourt.'

Steve licked his lips, mentally wincing at the thought of Starcourt. 'I guess.'

'While the Upside Down -- that's what you called it, correct?' Doctor Newman asked.

He nodded, 'The kids called it that. Something about a rat on a rope or something.'

She nodded, 'Alright. So while the Upside Down and the Russians greatly affected you, I think your trauma might have started earlier. Would you be comfortable telling me about your relationship with your parents?'

Steve glanced at the clock, frowning that not more than ten minutes had passed. He coughed, adjusting in his seat. 'There's not much to say,' he said. 'They weren't around a lot.'

'That's a big vague,' she wrote on her clipboard again. 'What were they like when you were a child, before they started becoming less of a fixture in your life? What were they like when they were home? What about now? What's your relationship like now?'

Steve lifted his hand to his mouth, nibbling on the nail of his thumb. His parents weren't something he wanted to talk about.

'This is a safe space,' Doctor Newman said. 'If you aren't ready to talk about your parents, we don't have to. Not until you're ready.'

'And if I'm not ready?'

'Then you aren't,' she said. 'We have all the time in the world, but I think some of your complications stem from your parents, and I can't help you without you opening up about your childhood. So, we'll return here each week until you're ready to face it.'

‘You make it sound easy,’ he laughed.

‘It’s not,’ Doctor Newman corrected. ‘Sharing something personal, especially when it's difficult to talk about, is far from easy. We don't know each other well, and I assume that even if you were more familiar with me, you still wouldn't find it easy to share your experience with me, and that is okay.’

Steve swallowed thickly. He didn't say anything for a moment, struggling to find the words. He licked his lips, glancing back up at the clock, then to his hands, then to Doctor Newman.

‘Uh, my parents,’ he started, before pausing, face pinching together.

‘Take your time,’ Doctor Newman said.

Steve took a deep breath, slouching deep into the chair. ‘Well, I think it started back in ‘76, after I turned 10,’ he began.

NOTE: Thank you guys for reading! I wasn't planning on doing a flash-back chapter, but I might throw them in between present chapters just to give context to what led up to Steve doing what he's doing. Also, if you've noticed, the break-up isn't a super bad one (in the context of why they could have broken up.) I wasn't going to have cheating or anything, but rather something that could be fixed, because I want a happy ending for my boys. Of course, it's worse in Steve's eyes because he just blames himself for stuff. IDK, I thought of doing something worse, but I felt that might be too much.

Also, if you aren't fond of reading fics on Tumblr and prefer the Ao3 formatting, the link to the fic is HERE. Tumblr sees all updates first, and there's a 1-4 hour delay of transfer posting to Ao3. I go through and edit everything. Tumblr is like the RAW/Uncut version, so to speak.

Remember that if you want to be added to the tag list to leave a comment below or send me a DM!

TAGLIST: @swimmingbirdrunningrock x @cinnamon-mushroomabomination x @phirex22 x @kylobith x @screaming-alone x @poopypantsbennett x @ledleaf x @rhyswritesreadsandcries

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re-bec-ca-ann · 1 year

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Seeing You

(Through New Eyes) - Read on AO3.

Incredible art by @sachart.

Eddie only catches a glimpse because instead of being inside surrounded by the likes of Dustin Henderson, Mike Wheeler, and the rest of the Hellfire Club, he’s outside having a cigarette when Steve arrives for pick-up duty. The former jock parks his well-known burgundy BMW against the curb adjacent to the Wheeler’s driveway and turns off the ignition. Eddie watches from under his lashes and takes another drag, hoping the nicotine will calm the flame inside his belly that seems to grow whenever he and Steve come into one another’s orbit. A piece of Eddie is screaming at him to either take his smoke break to the side of the two-story house near the hedges or deem it a lost cause and retreat to the basement before he gets spotted staring and potentially labeled a creep. Sure, they’ve been through hell and back together, Steve quite literally carrying him back to the land of the living all those months ago, and Dustin is a solid judge of character, but who can really blame Eddie for having the urge to hide certain things from the once king of Hawkins High? He’s still a freak and Steve’s still from a royal bloodline.

The Metalhead lingers long enough for his curiosity to win out though when he gets a closer look at Steve’s face as he sits in the driver’s seat for longer than necessary and notices something unfamiliar adorning the other man’s face: glasses.

The frames are dark brown or maybe even black and somewhat square. Steve’s chestnut hair hides the parts that curl around his ears. When Steve turns, rummaging around in the compartments on the side of the driver’s side door with a frustrated scowl, Eddie takes note of how the frames all but disappear when they reach the apples of the man’s cheeks and the sides of his nose. His already prominent nose looks even sharper and more defined, drawing attention to the strong bridge and angular slope. And his eyes, even with the distance limiting Eddie’s visual appraisal, appear both bigger and deeper set. Unfortunately for Eddie, the flame burning in his gut seems to be fueled by the sight. His insides churn with regret, suspecting, knowing, his affections are futile and so he shakes himself from his stupor, stubs out the forgotten cigarette, and makes a calculated dash for the door.

When Steve enters the Wheeler’s basement about two minutes later, alerting Dustin that it’s time to pack up his nerd shit and go, his face is bare.

Eddie wonders sourly if he wears them only to drive, but all but debunks that theory when he spots Steve squinting at the character sheet Dustin is shoving in his face as he vents his frustrations about how Eddie is simultaneously pure evil and mad genius with his riddle-laden campaigns.

When Steve throws a look at him, Eddie knows he should grin wide or let out a devilish cackle, but his expression remains focused as he studies the jock’s face and tries not to think too hard about how much he appreciates the other man's jaw, eyes, and nose both with and without the glasses.

-------

It’s Friday night and Eddie’s plans are bordering on lame, still, he does have some. Wayne is working the overnight shift which means he’ll have the government-refurbished trailer to himself. He doesn’t like being alone per se, but he does bask in the glory of having the small space all to himself. So tonight it’ll include one or two freshly rolled blunts, some dollar snacks, Labyrinth on VHS, and a six-pack of beer that’s cheap but decent—a favorite combination of the Munsons. The last two things, the movie and the beer, unfortunately, hang in balance, depending on who’s manning Family Video and the corner gas station. He hopes for friends or at least friendly acquaintances to be found at each establishment.

As the metalhead pulls into Family Video, van lurching to a halt when he slams on the breaks and puts the vehicle into park, he spots that burgundy Beemer he’s grown to associate with good things rather than annoyance and rage.

At this point, he considers Steve to be a friend, but he isn’t above buttering him up with an offer or two of taking over chauffeuring duties for a week. He won’t show his hand right away though. Maybe Steve will be in a giving mood. Maybe he’s got a date on the horizon and won’t give a shit about Eddie’s late fees, more focused on making it through the day and clocking out. And doesn’t that possibility just twist at Eddie’s insides a tad too much to be acceptable.

The door of the van creaks open, noise interrupting what appears to be a rather dull evening in Hawkins. And sure, it makes sense—more than half of the town left after the “earthquake”—but it still causes the metalhead to flinch at the possibility of drawing attention to himself. He’d been cleared of the murders, some guy named Owens had pulled a few strings on behalf of Jim Hopper, but an accusation like murder didn’t leave even the innocent unscathed, especially not an outcast.

When he reaches the glass door to the store, Eddie peers inside and finds Steve behind the counter entering data into the computer. He’s in his usual uniform, vest and all, but the suave-haired, broad-shouldered man is wearing the glasses again. Eddie feels like he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to. The retired king resembles more of a nerd with spectacles on—or at least that’s what his former friends, fans, and followers would categorize him as in this state. Eddie, however, is enamored more than usual. He’s surprised that a string of drool hasn't made its way out of his mouth yet, insides boiling with attraction and frustration.

The retired jock has yet to notice Eddie, leaving him to gaze freely for a bit longer at the endearing display of Steve Harrington appearing more human and flawed than god-like. But Eddie has enough sense to realize that he’s got about twenty more seconds before this crosses the line into weird and invasive territory. Reluctantly, he shoves the door in with his shoulder, and the bell above clangs violently against the frame.

Eddie’s just about to greet Steve when the other man’s eyes flash up in a panic at the presence of another soul, another set of eyes. He hears him mutter out a “shit” before he spins on his heels, rips the glasses from his face, and shoves them somewhere behind the counter. Eddie hopes he didn’t scratch or crack them in his haste—for self-indulgent and considerate reasons. Steve obviously needs them more than he’s willing to let on.

“Uh, hey, Munson.”

Eddie waves, trying to play it cool. He wants to tell Steve to put the glasses back on, reassure him that they don’t look bad and that there’s nothing wrong with needing a little help to function. But he notes the scarlet blush that’s gaining traction on the man’s face and pities him.

Don’t push, Munson. Don’t push.

“Just you here?” he asks plainly.

Steve nods and swallows, face morphing into a somewhat relieved expression.

“So you won’t mind turning a blind eye to some temporarily missing late rentals for a friend?”

Steve scoffs but it comes out more merry. “Friend, huh?”

Eddie tries but fails to keep his face from falling at the implication that Steve doesn’t consider them friends. His heart aches and his brain threatens to spiral even at the chance he’s still just a blip on Harrington’s radar.

Steve must catch on because he shakes his head and elaborates with an eager tone, “I mean, we are friends. How can we not be after everything? But, uh…”

Eddie’s head and heart need to know how that sentence is intended to end, so he presses forward. “But what?”

Steve cocks his head and sighs, shoves his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, and shrugs. “Friends hang out, don’t they?”

Although he’s internally wondering if this is all a joke, Eddie’s responding grin is feral and thrilled. “Shit, Steve. If you wanted to spend quality time with me, all you had to do was ask.”

He expects the jock to scoff and tell him to fuck off, but he does the opposite, leaving Eddie once again surprised by the man who’s worming his way into the metalhead’s heart at an alarming rate.

“Consider this me asking then.”

Jesus H Christ. He’s for real. Steve wants to spend time with me. This isn’t Gareth or Jeff or Dustin. It’s Steve Harrington requesting my time and attention.

Eddie wants to throw up and scream in victory at the absurdity of it all.

“All right,” he comments, schooling his voice into nonchalance as his hands twitch at his sides. “Tonight then. You, me, and Bowie.”

“Bowie?”

“Oh, right!” Eddie exclaims, dashing toward the new rentals and snatching Labyrinth from the shelf. He returns to his spot in front of Steve and shakes the case for him to see. “Bowie!”

Steve hums. Eddie can’t tell if it’s a good or a bad hum—or maybe a confused hum as he realizes that the jock is scrunching his eyes at the cover. He quells the urge to bring up the glasses and decides to tease Steve for his taste instead, not wanting to chance ruining their hang out before it’s even happened.

“Wait, don’t—don’t tell me you don’t like Bowie?” he cries like a wounded animal, clutching the tape to his chest.

“I didn’t say that!” Steve retorts.

And while that’s true, Eddie is having far too much fun being the catalyst for Steve’s blossoming flustered state.

“Don’t say another word, Harrington,” Eddie counters. “I really don’t want to have to renege on our plans.”

“Well, sorry if I’m just too cool to—”

“Nope. Not listening. Zip it, Steve,” he sing-songs heading toward the exit. “I’ll grab drinks and snacks. Although I’m sure my selections won’t be ‘cool enough’ for you. But former kings can’t be picky, now can they?”

“Wait, Eddie! The movie, you can’t just take it before I scan—”

Eddie wiggles his fingers in Steve’s direction and darts toward his van. Before he hops in and slams the door shut, he yells out, “Bye, Stevie! See you at 8.”

As Eddie heads down the road toward Lou’s corner store and gas station, his gut churns in excitement and disbelief. He thinks about the two of them sitting on the worn couch, maybe side by side, watching Bowie in all his glory on the TV. The TV. The small and already hard-to-see TV. Shit.

-------

Eddie is all but pacing the short space of the trailer’s living room as he waits for Steve’s arrival. Steve Harrington is coming to his house because he wants to spend time with Eddie and like an already lovesick fool, he’s got beer in the fridge and a plethora of snacks on the dented and scratched kitchen counter. At the gas station, he had to talk himself down from having an all-out panic attack because instead of just asking Steve what he liked to eat, he chose to go the playful, put-on careless route which led him to entertaining two stressful guessing games down both the candy and chip aisles. So now he’s got more bags and boxes of sugary, salty, crunchy, and sour treats than his or Steve’s teeth and stomachs can handle. There are Twizzlers, Milk Duds, sour gum drops, plain potato chips, BBQ potato chips, Doritos, nonpareils, Gobstoppers, and those gross waxy rootbeer bottles that are filled with liquid that no one like—but maybe Steve does? Fortunately for Eddie’s pinballing mind, headlights shine through the window and the metalhead strides toward the door to confirm who it is.

Eddie can’t help the smile that forms on his face as Steve extracts himself from the car and brushes out the imaginary wrinkles in his shirt. His grin, however, falls into a frown rather quickly at the sight of the jock pulling the infamous glasses from the bridge of his nose, shoving them into a soft case, and pocketing them in his Members Only jacket. Eddie sighs at the humanizing display of Steve’s obvious discomfort at needing and wearing something not up to the standards of Hawkins’ royalty. It irks Eddie and he isn’t sure if he wants to shake Steve to knock some sense into him or dismantle all of society’s beauty standards with his chaotic energy and rage.

Steve raps his knuckles against the aluminum door before Eddie can decide which option to dedicate his life to.

“Welcome, my liege!” he says as he swings the door open and bows before the other man.

Steve’s responding scoff is littered with a lightheartedness that makes Eddie want to beam with delight.

“What? Isn’t that how all of the mere and mortal peasants greet Steve ‘The King’ Harrington?” Eddie questions with feigned shock.

The laugh the other man releases is amused. “Nah, just the freaks, it seems.” The supposed dig is becoming a tender nickname lately—especially when Steve uses it. No longer a weaponized or venomous word but an endearing term that Eddie has always worn with a hint of pride that has now doubled in size and continues to grow. It feels good to find people who see and accept him for who he truly is. And Eddie yearns to do the same.

Eddie snags two beers from the fridge and tells Steve to grab whatever snacks tickle his fancy. When he turns back to face the counter, the Milk Duds and wax bottles are missing. He shakes his head, curls bouncing, and snatches the Gobstoppers and nonpareils. And they say I’m the freak?

They’re thirty minutes into the film, Steve’s arm draped across the back of the couch in an attempt to appear casual, while Eddie taps his fingers against the cardboard candy box where only half of the Gobstoppers remain. Eddie is trying to relax, he really is, but the way Steve is straining and rubbing at his temples every minute or so with his free hand is distracting. His instinct is to yell and go on an oddball rant about how glasses are actually metal as all heck and mainstream’s definition of style is a boring, capitalistic agenda, but he veers into the realm of soft deliveries in hopes of not scaring Steve away. “Hey, man,” Eddie starts, tone low and shaky. He waits until Steve acknowledges him to continue. “C-can you, uh, see the screen?”

“W-what do you mean?” Steve stammers and pinches his brow together. “I mean, of course. It’s right there,” he jokes, fingers pointing at the TV set.

Steve…” Eddie tries.

“Eddie,” Steve parrots back.

So much for the soft delivery, he thinks, standing up and leaning over the former jock to grab his discarded jacket and pull the case from the left-side pocket. He holds it up and declares, “I’m talking about these—” But the look on the other man’s face is embarrassed, maybe even petrified.

Shit, no.

Eddie sits back down and tries again, setting the glasses still in the case between their thighs. “I saw you wearing them when you came to pick up Dustin from Wheeler’s house, and then again at Family Video. I wasn’t spying or anything…”

Steve’s exasperated chuckle is dark and quiet but there. “Liked what you saw? The cool kid isn’t so cool anymore, huh?” Steve flops back against the couch and squeezes his eyes shut. “Go ahead, take your shot, Munson. I deserve it.”

“What? You think I’m going to make fun of you?” It’s Eddie’s turn to laugh. “Man, you really don’t trust people, do you?”

Eddie’s verbal attacks are reserved for bullies and authority figures on power trips. And sure, Steve might have fallen into one of those categories in years past, but he no longer does. The metalhead wouldn’t have opened his space to him otherwise.

Steve’s face is now pinched tighter with pain and a weighted sadness. “Sorry, I just—”

“Force of habit? Conditioned to expect the worst in people?” Offers Eddie. Steve’s nod is tired and a little depressed. “Yeah, me too.”

Steve sits up, stares ahead, and starts to pick at the hem of his shirt. “So if you aren’t going to rag on me, what were you going to say?”

Eddie swallows, throat going dry at the sudden fork in the road before him: play it off or be stupidly honest. And the thing is, Eddie isn’t one to run away from much anymore…

“Well,” he blinks. “I was going to say that it makes sense you might need help seeing after all the hits and kicks to the head from the buffoons we once classified as classmates and the interdimensional creatures hellbent on crushing your skull…” He could end it there. Call it a night. Finish the movie and have a chance at doing it again in the future. Or… “I was also going to say that they look good on you.”

Eddie’s not running, but he is afraid to let his gaze meet Steve’s face. He forces his eyes to drag their way over and up until they land on the other man’s now flushed cheeks and wide eyes. The development gives the metalhead a burst of courage and his thin fingers are reaching for the abandoned case from where he retrieves the neglected glasses. He unfolds them with trembling hands and leans forward, knee pressing into the warmth and sturdiness of Steve’s thigh. He places the glasses on the man’s face, the bridge resting on Steve’s defined nose, ends hooked through thick hair and resting on the curve of his ears. He’s pretty sure both he and Steve are holding their breath.

When he returns to his former position on the well-used couch, perhaps an inch or two closer to the jock’s body, it’s Steve who breaks the charged silence.

“Thank you,” he whispers, voice disbelieving.

Eddie’s heart flutters and a rush of air pushes out of his straining lungs. “You’re welcome.”

He’s trying not to grin like a maniac, but he catches a genuine smile tugging at Steve’s lips and takes it as an encouraging sign. “Now, where were we,” he says, turning his attention back to the screen.

If their hands brush once or twice over the course of the next hour and Steve catches Eddie admiring his glasses and blushes under the attention, well that’s something worth investigating at a later date. But for now, Eddie basks in the weirdness and wonder of being actual friends with one Steve Harrington. Glasses included.

#steddie #steddie fic #soft steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington wears glasses #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #this is v fluffy

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madaboutmunson · 29 days

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MadAboutMunson's One Shot Steddie Fics

Fics are below Keep reading :)

Are You Experienced

Summary: Everyone knows Steve Harrington, a local rich kid jock, the previous king of Hawkins High School. He's got it all, money, a respectable family, and chicks love him. He's even spending the summer learning what it's like to be a real working man before taking on a role in his Dad's firm because its builds character and empathy. Or is he something else entirely? Is Steve a down-on-his-luck guy, stuck in a job he dislikes because his dad is teaching him a lesson, repeatedly striking out with the ladies, that his co-worker is fond of reminding him about? Under all the many layers and masks, he uses to survive the day-to-day, Steve has secrets. The main one is how passionately he loves music. How it moves him in ways nothing else does, and he's sure no one else could possibly feel the same, until his Mom gives him $50 to spend at the new record store. Tumblr Link Ao3 Link

Never Too Much

Summary: Just a little something that wormed its way into my head, because I just love the whole Steddie having an extra love language of music thing Tumblr Link Ao3 Link

Policy of Truth

Summary: Please read the tags and warnings before reading this one 💚 After saving the world, everyone heads home, but not everyone has a place to go back to. Realising that they potentially could have lost their son Mr & Mrs Harrington, make an effort with Steve and open their those in need. But its not just friendships blossoming at The Harrington's, and soon Eddie and Steve have a secret to keep. Ao3 Link

Eight Frames a Week

Summary: Eddie catches Steve in his glasses one time. Just one time! But that is all it takes for Edward Munson’s brain to spark a new hyper fixation. He must have Steve in glasses, whenever he possibly can, because….well…. 1. He looks cute as a button in his glasses. They are so delicate. Thin golden wire frames and large round lenses accentuate the puppyish nature of his eyes. 2. Steve gets shy about them, which is also so adorable Eddie could spontaneously combust. Tumblr Link Ao3 Link

Keep You From The Cold

Summary: Eddie Munson is finding out that being a Vampire isn't as badass as some of the movies would have him believe. It's difficult enough trying to figure out what bits of lore are correct or complete nonsense, but when he sees his only willing source of nourishment (his boyfriend Steve) is struggling, he decides it's time to look elsewhere for sustenance. Fortunately, Eddie learns there is a very undesirable person in the vicinity, who has very bad intentions towards his very desirable Steve, and he means to put a very final stop to that. Tumblr Link Ao3 Link

Wishin' and Hopin'

Summary: In which Eddie realises he might have some residual power from The Upside-Down and plans to use it in the best way he knows how, to impress the guy he's had a crush on for months Tumblr Link Ao3 Link

Devil Gate Drive

Summary: In which Eddie fixes a spooky campfire story that Steve mis told, sending them on a quest for a wish to be granted. Well, once, they get to Devil Gate Drive that is :) Tumblr Link Ao3 Link

Microfics

- Prompt was 'Pin'

Found what I’m looking for Tumblr Link Ao3 Link

POP! Tumblr Link Ao3 Link

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ethynthedragonfly · 2 years

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Looking for a fluffy Steddie fic that’ll have you screaming and kicking your legs. May I introduce you to ‘ for your eyes only(i’ll show you my heart) by strawberryspence on AO3

#steddie #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #stranger things #steddie fanfic #cute #fluffy #Steve Harrington wears glasses

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kefisdemise · 2 years

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saw ur post about steve with glasses and i 100% agree. he wears glasses he DOES and i present my case with joe keery in other media:

they suit him so well….i can’t

HE HAS GLASSES this is exactly what i wanted what i imagined i am losing my entire mind

#steve harrington wears glasses #steve harrington is boyfriend material and i need a new outfit

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sabrinadelreyy · 20 days

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let's take a moment to appreciate joe with glasses

#joe keery #glasses #petition for him to wear glasses more #hes so babygirl #steve harrington #kurt kunkle #kurtsworld96 #steve harrington x reader #x reader #djo time #joe keery djo #djo music #djo #djotime #gator tillman #stranger things

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strawberryspence · 2 years

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Wayne’s trying his best to get the picture hung as straight as possible.

There are kids screaming at the yard, he can hear Hopper arguing with Jonathan from the backyard, something about the movers or something, Eddie’s in the kitchen trying to hang his mug collection in display, Dustin and Mike are trying to carry more boxes to the house and the others are scattered everywhere in the new house, trying to do their own thing to help him out.

There’s a box full of framed pictures just beside his legs. Wayne’s still trying to level the frames. He was never one for pictures, until Eddie came home to him.

The first framed picture, he remembers buying the frame from a dollar store. No glass, just a flimsy plastic and plastic frame. Eddie was 12 in the picture, teeth crooked, hair growing, with the acoustic guitar Wayne bought for him. It’s secondhand but, Wayne still had to work double time for it. Every minute of it was worth with how big Eddie’s smile on the picture was. He just finished learning his first song and just finished playing it for Wayne. It’s Stand By Me by Ben E. King.

There’s more in pictures taken, more pictures developed and slipped into an album he bought from Melvald’s. But the second picture to be framed was when he was 15. It’s a picture that would make any person stop and think, “Who would frame a picture like that?” Eddie’s 15 in the picture, curly hair long and frenzied, but the highlight is his beaten up face. He has a growing black eye, there’s is crusty blood on his nose and Eddie Munson is beaming. He got into a fight, his first fist fight, and Wayne shouldn’t have framed it. But it’s also the same day Eddie came out to Wayne and Wayne will forever keep it close to his heart.

The next picture framed is when he’s 18. It’s the day Eddie’s supposed to be graduating High School, but didn’t. Eddie thinks he hides it well, the stress and disappointment that he’s not graduating, hiding it in sarcasm and witty jokes but Wayne can see through him even blind. He takes him out for the day to Indiana, they walk around, going to stores Eddie would love and ending it in a diner. Wayne asks the waitress to take a picture of them. Eddie breaks down that night, telling Wayne he didn’t deserve this and that he should be more disappointed, more angry before shutting himself to his room. He wakes up the next morning with Wayne trying to hang another framed picture in the trailer, Wayne tells him, “School’s not everything. You’re a good person, Ed. That’ll always be the most important thing to me.”

The first three framed pictures and album full of pictures are gone, eaten by the four fault lines that swallowed Hawkins whole in 1986. Wayne doesn’t care, not really, not when his son was being chased down by the whole town. His kind, weird, loud Eddie, who doesn’t even want to hurt bugs or spiders, always opting with setting them free rather than squashing them.

Eddie comes out alive, and free at the end of it. Because beyond everything, beyond being kind, generous, loud, funny, Eddie has always been a fighter. Between fighting real life monsters, signing NDAs and recovering from literal feral bat bites, Eddie gains a family. It’s weirdly shape, contains an actual 15 year old with super powers, the Mayfield girl who rose from the dead, those two comes with a gaggle of children, Chief Hopper who also rose from the dead, Joyce Byers, the Buckley kid, the reporter, two potheads. It’s a weird family, and still the weirdest part is Steve Harrington. Harrington. Still it was a family, held together with tape, trauma and love.

Wayne’s not Steve’s biggest fan. Not until Wayne gets the full story of how Eddie survived, he doesn’t get it until three months later. Only because Eddie wasn’t ready to talk about it. Eddie tells him that it was all Steve. Steve who gave him CPR, wrapped his wounds properly and carried him out of the hell hole with his own injuries. Wayne was kinda mad at Eddie for not telling him immediately, especially because he’s been giving Harrington the stinky eye for three months now, when in truth Wayne is forever in debt with him.

Eddie’s also babble mouth who told Harrington that more than anything Wayne was devastated to learn that the “Upside Down” goo washed up all of the pictures. For his birthday, Wayne’s not even sure how he knows, Steve buys him a secondhand camera, an empty album and a stack of empty frames. That starts a tradition that spread all throughout the family. It somehow culminated to them taking pictures of Eddie, and when they think it’s special enough, they frame it and give it to Wayne. Eddie hates the tradition, because why do you guys keep framing my picture???

That’s how he ended up here, in his brand new house, the one Eddie bought for him just after his second successful tour, with a big box full of pictures.

Wayne backs up from the wall full of frames, it’s accumulated so many different pictures now, now it’s not just Eddie. Now, it’s a burst of different pictures. Somewhere in the left, you will find the framed picture of when Eddie finally graduated, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan beside him with the same graduation gown. Beside it is a picture of the Party in their own graduation, beside it is a big collage frame with a picture of each kid when they also finally graduate college, there’s a picture of all of them when Joyce and Hop finally got married, a picture of when Robin, Steve and Nancy all graduated college, all separately. Pictures of weddings, and birthdays, and kids from the kids who he watched grow up, who now call him Grandpa Wayne.

Eddie’s pictures are still there, Eddie will always be there. Eddie in his first apartment, Eddie and his band when they first open a concert, Eddie signing his first contract, Eddie on his first radio interview, Eddie and his band on their first magazine cover. Just Eddie, living his dream.

“I think that one’s a little crooked.” A voice tells him. He turns to see Steve, a little older now, hair shorter, glasses thicker, a hearing aid always on his ear.

“Which one?” Steve points at the large picture. It’s a little bigger than the other frames.

Wayne smiles, moving closer to adjust the picture. In the picture, it’s with Steve and Eddie, both in their tuxes, Wayne in the middle as Eddie’s arms is hooked around Wayne’s shoulders and as Steve is laughing at something Eddie has said. Wayne’s just smiling at the two of them, the sun bright, brand new rings sparkling in the sun.

When satisfied, he moves back just as Eddie enters the room, a box in his hand, “I got you some new pictures.” He gives Steve a knowing smile, as Wayne accepts the box.

“I don’t remember the pictures very well, but I tried my best to describe them to Will.” Wayne’s hand flies to his mouth as he sees the framed pictures. They’re drawings, and they’re not the exact same, but it looks so similar to the pictures he lost in the earthquake, the pictures he long accepted he’ll never see again. It’s Eddie as a kid again, and it’s enough to bring tears to his eyes.

“This isn’t fair, Ed. You can’t just make me cry.” Eddie laughs as he gives his uncle a hug, a whisper of thank you’s exchanged.

They watch as Wayne hammers a new nail on the wall, placing it just beside the picture of Wayne standing beside Eddie as he holds his first award.

He straightens the pictures.

Takes a step back to look at it all.

Some of the frames fraying from the age, some pictures fading on the edges, some of it are crooked.

All of it filled with pictures, radiating a life lived with joy and happiness.

It’s perfect.

#UNCLE WAYNE DESERVES HAPPINESS #LET HIM HAVE HIS SON #LET HIM HAVE EDDIE OKAY #wayne munson & eddie munson #wayne munson #steddie rants #steddie #daerants #daeheadcanons #steddie headcanon #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson angst #steve harringon wears glasses #hard of hearing steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson

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morganbritton132 · 11 months

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Eddie posts a Tiktok of old home video. In the video, Steve is standing in the kitchen at the trailer with the phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear as he made coffee for two.

Someone must’ve answered because Steve perks up and says, “Hi, yes. I’d like to request a song. It’s - yes, the new Corroded Coffin song called….well, how was I supposed to know you have caller ID, Christine? Can you play the song or not?”

Steve hangs up the phone and immediately picks up his walkie-talkie like, “Earth to Dustin, use *67 when you call. They’re memorizing phone numbers. Over.”

Eddie behind the camera says with so much amusement, “You do this often?”

Steve smiles at him, finally bringing the coffees over to Eddie, “Every day. Gotta get your song out there so more people can hear it.”

#people seeing 1987 Steve Harrington with his messy bed head hair his glasses wearing one of Eddie’s tshirts and boxers and are like: damn #Steve called the radio station in town everyday after CC got their first single on the radio #until the radio station started screening his calls #then he used Max’s phone #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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shinebrightlikeanarwhal · 2 years

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Dustin: WAKE UP SLEEPY HEAD

Eddie: dude what the fuck?!

Steve: *barely intelligible whining*

Dustin: *surprised laugh while he runs for his life*

#eddie x steve #steve x eddie #steddie #stranger things season four #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #dustin henderson #Dustin is their rowdy son #he proceeds to tell Lucas Will and Mike #mike doesn’t believe him until they come over and find steve in Eddie’s shirt and helping him plan their next campaign #steve wears cute glasses and Eddie likes to mess them up to see him all disgruntled and blind #will is their obligatory baby gay that they spoil and coddle just as much as Dustin #Lucas gets dragged back into d&d with steve because: ‘you’re never too cool for your friends’

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ickypuppi3 · 2 years

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billy and steve smoking together one time and steve accidentally - yes, accidentally - takes billy’s lighter

he brings it to school the next day but he can’t find billy anywhere so he puts it in his own locker for safe keeping

by the time lunch rolls around, the lighters missing and now so is one of steve’s books

he rolls his eyes

yeah, real funny hargrove

then steve spots a little note

‘your move’

he bites his cheek, trying not to smile

and looks across to billy’s locker

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #steve gets his book back and steals a hair tie that he found #wears it on his wrist #billy steals steve’s glasses and comes in wearing them #(steve owning glasses & refusing to wear them is canon to me)#my words #they definitely do this back and forth #without really acknowledging it #and it just progressively gets super gay #petty thievery when you’re both gay for eachother so it’s like cute >>>#steve definitely doesn’t keep the note #definitely doesn’t put it in his wallet #… of course not #why would he care what billy hargroves handwriting looks like #(he does & he did)#(down atrociously)#(both of them)#them + s2 is just so !!#wouldn’t it be absolutely disgusting if billy went to kiss him and then said ‘your move’#wouldn’t it be even worse if steve actually took the bait #too late they’re making out in the camaro

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tired-bisexual-brainrot · 2 years

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steve: so, should i take out my contacts?

robin: oh no no, this isn’t an eye test. it’s a gay test.

robin: now tell me: #1 *nancy*, or #2 *tammy thompson*?

steve: #1?

robin: interesting. ok #1 *nancy*, or #2 *eddie*?

steve: *gasp* oh my god

robin: #2 right? 😏

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blaqcats-fics · 1 year

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(He’s) Just a Phase — Part 1

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 3.1K

November 1993.

Steve cursed lowly as he tried to light his cigarette. The wind was not on his side today, and he was growing increasingly annoyed with every passing moment.

The day had begun with a literal pile of dog shit. He had woken up, sleeping past his alarm, and his service dog, Bowie, had left him a present. Steve stepped into it and thus set the mood for the rest of the day. From then on, Steve missed the bus, causing having to walk to the music store where he worked out with his guitar case heavy on his back and Bowie at his side. It also didn't help that it had rained the night before and a car passed by without slowing down and drenched him in cold water.

Thankfully he had arrived at work in one piece. He was in break now, letting Bowie take a moment to eat some food and to allow himself a smoke, even though that was becoming a failure itself.

‘Fuck it,’ Steve grunted, running his hand through his hair, grimacing as his hand tangled in his hair. It had grown out far longer than he was used to. It looked like his mother’s hair — long, unruly, and stuck between the questionable state of wavy and curly. He was sure that it rivaled Eddie’s almost, except he didn't have poorly chopped bangs.

He glanced down at Bowie, watching as he finished eating his kibble, before looking up at Steve with big brown eyes. Steve smiled, leaning down, gently petting him as he picked the bowl up. ‘Was it good, boy?’ he asked, chuckling as Bowie’s tail thumped against the ground. ‘Guess so. C’mon, back to work, bubby.’

Steve opened the door to the store, watching as Bowie trotted back inside. Steve followed in after Bowie, going behind the counter. ‘Back from break!’ he called out.

‘Gotcha!’ Sam called back.

Samuel ‘Sam’ Carter was a fifty-year-old retired drummer, and Steve’s boss. He was intimidating to look at, covered in tattoos from head to toe, and fitted into a biker-gang aesthetic, but despite the intimidating exterior, Sam was a sweetheart. He was also one of the few people Steve met in the past month that was helping him understand the current queer culture.

Sam, surprisingly, was an active member of the drag community in Seattle and was more than happy to take Steve under his wing, saying that Steve looked like a lost puppy begging for shelter.

Steve was a lost puppy looking for shelter when he came to Seattle. He had left Indianapolis on a whimand didn't stop to think of the consequences. Luckily, Sam was able to situate Steve with a job and a place to stay.

‘Oh, yeah, kid!’ Sam called, walking out from the back of the store, clipboard in hand from doing inventory. ‘Gale called and said she found something that you might be interested in.’

Steve glanced at him as he opened the cash register to count the cash for the third time. ‘What’d she say?’

‘Anthem, the bar down where Gale works, is having an open mic night. Gale says there may be a producer there, but she can't promise anything,’ Sam said, walking to the counter. He paused and made a scrunched face at Bowie, speaking in a baby voice at him.

Steve rolled his eyes at Sam’s actions, but was otherwise interested. This was an opportunity, even if it could be a failure. ‘She say what time it was?’

‘Around 9 tonight.’

‘Tonight?’ Steve exclaimed. ‘I don't gave anything to play! Fuck!’

Sam scoffed, ‘I’ve seen you scribble in that notebook of yours; you have something.’

Steve chewed on his lip anxiously, glancing down as Bowie nudged his leg. He took a shaky breath, fixing his glasses on his face that had gradually fallen down his face. ‘Those aren't lyrics. They, uh, I don't know, it's just venting.’

‘Sounds close enough to music for me,’ Sam said. ‘How about this, I’ll call Rachael to cover your shift, and you go figure your shit out for tonight. You ain't going to get anywhere without nipping opportunities by the ass. You aren't going to get your man back without working for it.’

Steve hummed, nodding. He didn't bother correcting Sam. This wasn't about getting Eddie back. He was sure Eddie was happier off without him lingering in his shadow. Life had just started to work out in Eddie’s favor. All Steve wanted to do was apologize and make up for hurting Eddie, even if hurting him had never been his intention.

‘Oh, before you head out, Paul can't do their routine Saturday night, do you want to fill in their spot?’ Sam asked. ‘I know you aren't familiar with the scene, but stepping out if your comfort zone can be fun sometimes.’

Paul (Monique on Saturdays and Mondays) was one of Sam’s liners at the club he owned. They were one of the more popular drag queens that worked there. Steve enjoyed their shows, finding them loud and exciting. However, Steve never found himself wondering what it was like to be a queen.

Steve shook his head, ‘If it was Minnie, maybe. Paul is too much of a star to fill in for.’

Sam snorted, ‘Ain’t that the damn truth. You’d make a pretty girl, Stevie.’ He sent Steve a wink.

‘I think I need to finish sorting out my internalized homophobia before I start examining gender and how I want to be perceived. I don't need to give myself a stroke,’ Steve grinned. He picked up his case, adjusting it comfortably on his back. ‘Plus, if I had a pair of tits, I don't think this world would survive.’

‘Christ, kid,’ Sam laughed. ‘Get out of here.’

Steve rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face. He called Bowie and left for home. He knew that if Eddie was still with him, he'd love to meet Sam.

That night, despite practicing for hours, Steve could feel his skin crawling. He was a bundle of nerves and he left as if someone had jump-started his heart with a faulty engine. For a brief moment, Steve wondered if Eddie always felt this way before going on to play a show. Maybe, but Eddie was always a bundle of nerves.

‘You good, ‘Evie?’ Gale asked, handing him a shot. ‘Look like you could use some liquid courage.’

Steve glanced down at the shot and hesitated. He started at it for a moment before shaking his head. ‘Best not. My nerves already make me sick to my stomach,’ he said.

Gale shrugged, taking the shot and downing it herself. ‘More for me,’ she winked. ‘You ready to play your little heart out?’

‘No,’ Steve said, raw honesty in his voice. ‘Performing was never my thing. I don't think it even is my thing. I was good at sports in high school like I was a full-on jock, but this? I wouldn't gave touched this with a twenty-foot pole.’

Gale hummed, her eyes fleeting over him, taking in his appearance. ‘Sure don't look like a jock now with that hair of yours, and that outfit. It screams homeless instead of jock,’ she joked.

‘I got it from Walmart,’ Steve frowned. ‘It was comfy and cheap.’

The woman sighed, ‘Baby, you look like the bastard child of Kurt Cobain, but with Tommy Lee’s stupidly sexy hair.’

Steve stared at her. ‘I know Cobain is from Nirvana, but who the hell is Tommy Lee?’

‘Some pretty boy from Mötley Crüe,’ she explained. ‘They’re either a metal or rock band. Who knows the damn difference?’

Eddie does, Steve’s mind supplied.

He pulled his gaze away from Gale, looking at the stage, listening to, well, something. ‘Is that poetry?’

‘Kind of,’ she said with an uninterested shrug. ‘Spoken word, I think. You like it?’

Steve scrunched his nose, ‘Not my cup of tea.’

‘It’s powerful,’ Gale said. ‘It were louder, maybe I would like it, but eh.’

‘Eh,’ Steve agreed. He glanced around the bar before settling his gaze back on Gale. ‘Sam said something about a producer?’

Gale rose her brows, ‘Is that why're so worked up?’

Steve felt his cheek warm. ‘Possibly.’

‘I don't know kid. Boss told me that there could be one, but didn't give me a name or a face.’

‘Shit,’ Steve grunted. That made his anxiety even worse. Actually, Steve wasn't sure if it did make it worse. The dread had already been lingering, but now it felt more real.

‘You’ll be fine. I'd be more worried if you didn't know how to song,’ Gale joked. She glanced down towards the end of the bar where an older man was flagging her. ‘You’re on next, ‘Evie. Take a breath and focus on the reason you're even out here.’

Steve didn't say anything as she walked away. He glanced back at the stage, swallowing the lump in his throat. He pushed himself off of the stool, moving through the small crowd of people and he suddenly felt as if he was back in Indianapolis, pushing through the crowd, looking for Eddie. It was a familiar, but ghostly feeling that made the hairs on the back of his hair raise.

That had been the year's ago, and Eddie was far from his reach.

‘A round of applause for Kaitlynn and James for their wonderful performance!’ the announcer spoke loudly into the mic. Steve couldn't remember his name. It was Dave, Derek, or something. He knew it started with a D. ‘Next up in tonight’s roster is the mysterious ‘Evie!’

Steve licked at his front teeth, sucking in a breath. He went to the stage, passing by Kaitlynn and James. He took a moment to pull his guitar from his case, checking the tuning before sitting down on a bench in front if the microphone. He coughed slightly, the sound feeling the room. ‘A big thank you for anyone who came out here tonight. My name is ‘Evie and this is my song, uh, enjoy?’

‘Evie was a stage name. Gale and Sam suggested he used one, even if it wasn't far off from his actual name. It helped hide him for now, at least until photographs were involved, and Steve did whatever he could do to avoid his face being anywhere.

There was a small applause of encouragement and a loud whistle that most likely came from Gale. His lip switched and he adjusted the weight of his guitar in his hands.

‘I’m starting at the glass in front of me,’ he sang, voice loud in the room, the microphone and speakers filling the room with his voice. ‘Is it half empty? Have I ruined all you’ve given me?’

He strummed the guitar, his stomach twisting in knots as he sang. He didn't know if it came from the anxiety of performing or from how a giant lump of panic started to form in the back of his throat.

He took a deep breath, pushing the lump away, his eyes stinging. ‘Don’t tell me I will make it on my own. Don't leave me tonight. This heart of stone will sink ‘til it does if you leave me alone,’ he sang, his voice cracking.

Steve remembered the long nights when sleep never plagued him. He remembered sitting up in bed, giving his attention to an unaware and sleeping Eddie. He used to watch him sleep and watched as all the stress lines were even out on his face, making him look younger. Eddie had looked so peaceful, and sometimes Steve would stare and count the light freckles that kissed his face. It was his form of counting sheep.

‘Don’t tell me I will make it on my own. Don't leave me tonight. This heart of stone will sink ‘til it does if you leave me tonight. Don't leave me tonight,’ Steve sang, tears glued to his lashes as he played the last few notes.

He blinked away the tears, moving his eyes to rub them away. He could barely hear the applause over the loudness of his thoughts. He sent the crowd a weak smile before moving and heading off stage, not bothering to stop and put his guitar away. He merely grabbed the case and walked back to Gale.

‘Give me a Long Island,’ he mumbled, taking a moment to put the guitar up and leaning it against the bar.

Gale reached out and touched his shoulder. ‘Baby, you sure you don't want something lighter? We both know you're a lightweight.’

‘That’s the point,’ Steve mumbled. He knew better than to develop a co-dependency on alcohol. That was how you get addicted to it, but addiction runs in his veins and for once, Steve wanted to bury the voices.

The woman sighed, ‘I’ll get you a drink, but it's not going to be a Long Island. Go sit in one of the private rooms, I’ll get Frankie to bring you the drink.’

Steve nodded, getting off the bar and moving through the crowd again, heading towards the back.

‘Hey! Excuse me!’ someone called out. Steve ignored them, figuring that they were just trying to get through the crowd of people like he was. ‘Wait a second! ‘Evie!’

Steve paused, turning around, frowning as a smaller woman made her way to him. She couldn't be much older than he was, but she looked far more foot together then he did. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘What’d you need?’

‘Mind if I join you? I saw you were heading to the private rooms,’ she said.

Steve frowned, ‘Uh, if you're trying to like, um, you know...’

She must have caught on to what he was saying and flushed red. She waved her hands frantically. ‘No! No! Not at all. Happily married with two demons to prove,’ she said, wiggling her hand, showing off the simple silver band.

‘Oh, shit, sorry,’ Steve said, flushing in embarrassment. ‘You call your kids demons?’

The woman merely shrugged, ‘They sure the hell aren't angels. Either way, mind if I join you? Rather not have a conversation in the midst of chaos, ya’ know?’

Steve nodded. ‘Yeah, of course. What’s your name?’ he asked, leading her to the back.

‘Kacey Williams,’ she introduced. ‘I’m a talent agent from Los Angeles.’

Steve stumbled over his feet a bit. His hand froze above the doorknob, turning to look at her with a deer-caught-in-headlights look. ‘You’re a talent agent?’ his voice cracked.

‘Yes, sir,’ she beamed. ‘I’m technically on vacation, but talent waits for no one! Even if you were a bit nervous.’

‘Was it really that noticeable?’ he sighed. ‘I told Gale, the bartender, that I’m new on the scene, or whatever it’s called. Music wasn’t an interest until recently.’

Kacey hummed. ‘First time preforming then?’

Steve shrugged, opening the door and letting her go in first. He closed the door behind him, moving to set his case on one of the sofas. ‘In front of a lot of people, yeah.’

‘Well, it could have gone worse. Like you could have froze up or throw up on the front row,’ she said, sitting in a chair.

‘I doubt I would even have stage fright. I'm used to being looked at all the time. I justed to be on the swim team, and I played basketball for a while.’

‘Reformed jock. Who would have guessed?’ Kacey grinned. ‘Well, there's a bit to work on, but would you be interested in giving stardom a chance? You have something that I think a lot of people need to hear.’

Steve sighed, sitting next to the guitar case. He brushed his hair from his face. ‘I’m going to be honest with you,’ he said. ‘I only came tonight in hopes to meet an agent, and here you are, but what I’m doing with my music — it’s not what you probably want to deal with.’

Kacey hummed, ‘I think I'll decide that for myself. Tell me what I could be working with.’

Steve chewed on the inside of his mouth and picked at the hole in his jeans anxiously. ‘Back in ‘89, my ex and I broke up. Uh, I fucked ruined our relationship. I made a lot of mistakes. They were tired of being second to everything, and they wanted more. So, yeah.’

‘That doesn't tell me why your here, attached to your shitty guitar, looking for an agent.’

Steve snorted. ‘I couldn't get my head out of my ass for a while. At least not until recently. I want to apologize for the damage I did — the relationship I ruined with my unfair opinions. I just can't reach them right now, they're too far out of my reach. If I get my voice out there, then maybe they could hear me.’

‘So you want to get your ex back?’

‘No,’ he shook his head. ‘That’s too selfish and way to much to ask. They have a steady life. They seem happy. I'm not going to fuck it up by trying to win them back. I just want them to know that I'm sorry. Maybe its closure for myself.’

Kacey hummed, ‘And what's going to happen if you go big, get your voice out there? What are you going to do afterwards?’

‘Finish my contract up. Go home and go back to working the same nine-to-five job,’ he said.

‘That’s depressing, ‘Evie,’ she said.

‘It’s life,’ he said back. ‘There’s something else I want to do, if I were to get into the scene. It's my plan that you might not like.’

Kacey leaned back, pausing when Frankie walked in, handing Steve his drink. She spoke up after Frankie left. ‘What’s your plan?’

‘I want to be open about my sexuality,’ Steve said. He swallowed thickly. ‘I don't want to hide the fact that I’m bisexual, and I don't want to hide the fact that every song I have ever written is about a man that I would kill for.’

Kacey stared at him, eyes wide. ‘That’s asking for death threats.’

‘Bowie is out. Elton John is out. Freddie Mercury was out. It may not be accepted still, but why do I have to hide when they didn't?’

‘It’s more complicated than that, I think,’ Kacey breathed. ‘But you doing this, it might ruin your reputation and the offers you receive. It’ll be hard.’

‘I’m prepared to do whatever it takes,’ Steve said seriously.

Kacey nodded. She opened her purse, pulled out a card, handing it to him. ‘This is my business card. I don't give these to many people, so don't go sharing it around. Think about what you want to do, then give me a call Monday morning. If you still want this Monday, with the risk, then I’ll work on getting you a plane out to LA,’ she said.

Steve looked at the car, nodding. He already had his answer. Monday he would call her. That was his only option — risks included.

NOTE: thank you guys for reading and the reblogs! if you want to be on the tag list, just comment that you want to be! i’m not sure how frequent these updates are, but my mind is brewing a lot of ideas. at the top, there's a link to the series masterlist which also has a master list to my other works (which are on ao3)! the song attached is the one Steve sang for open mic :)

TAGLIST: @swimmingbirdrunningrock x @cinnamon-mushroomabomination x

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