Archive of Our Own ^beta

Eddie thinks it’s kind of like watching a car crash in slow-motion, the first time he spots Mayfield ducking out of the room after dinner. A car crash that, in hindsight, seemed so inevitable he feels stupid for not doing something sooner. 

The signs were all there from the start, is the thing. Mayfield wanted to die for wishing her brother harm, she admitted as much, it nearly got her killed– and survivor’s guilt is a hell of a drug. Everybody knows what happened to Max Mayfield, and so Eddie’s a little stumped when nobody seems to notice the small peculiarities, the irregularities piling up, red flags practically falling from the ceiling, after they put Vecna in a (final, absolutely-no-resurrections-allowed) grave. How, despite her permanent limp and blindness in one eye, she takes to skateboarding again, alone. How she stops leaving the trailer park. How she breaks things off with Lucas again, reason being she just doesn't like him anymore, sorry. 

So when Max comes knocking on Eddie’s door late one night looking to buy, he puts his foot down. 

“I’m not selling you weed,” he says matter-of-factly. 

Face hardening, Max folds her arms over her chest. “Why not?” 

“Uh, because you’re a child–” 

“As if you haven’t sold to people my age–” 

“And my friend,” Eddie says over her. 

Max glowers. 

Sighing, Eddie gestures behind him. “Look. I don’t really– deal anymore, anyway, so. Wouldn’t have been able to sell you anything.” Not like I ever would in the first place. Carefully, he adds, “But I make a mean hot chocolate.” 

Max hesitates. “You… want to make me hot chocolate?” 

“Yep.” 

Tense silence. And then – miracle of miracles – Max moves, striding unevenly into the trailer to accommodate her limp. Eddie closes the door behind her. 

He goes to turn the music off – Stairway to Heaven isn’t exactly the right vibe, he doesn’t think – but Max tenses ever so slightly, and so he just turns the volume down instead. 

Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans (Jesus, he's so out of his depth here), he nods jerkily at the kitchen. Max follows him in silence, eyes on the roof like she's half-expecting another portal to appear, despite this being a different trailer from- well. From back then. 

“Sit,” he gestures to the kitchen table. “If you want,” he adds a second later. 

She does. 

“So,” he says conversationally as he rummages around the kitchen. He pulls a ladle out of a drawer. “Is there a reason you suddenly decided getting high would solve all your problems? Not judging, by the way. Been there a few times myself, if you can believe it.” 

That draws a snort from Max, whose eyes are on her hands as she picks at her cuticles. Her fiery red hair looks muted here, in the artificial light. 

Waiting patiently, Eddie turns a knob on the stove before putting a pot down over the flame. The milk sizzles a little as he pours it in, so he lowers the heat marginally. When Max stays quiet, he turns. She’s still staring at her hands. 

“Red?” 

She shrugs again. Opens her mouth, before shutting it again. Then, in a rush, she says, “I– I just. I feel like I’m screwing up. Everyone’s just… moving on? And I’m still there. Stuck, or whatever." She flickers her eyes up, and Eddie catches the milky white of her right eye before she looks back down again. "Ugh, stop staring at me, I’m fine.” 

Eddie swallows. This part, at least, he understands. He nods, before turning back around, pouring the chocolate powder in. He mixes half-heartedly for a minute before he decides it’s done. Pours the hot chocolate into two mugs, and puts one down in front of Max. He's only just sat down when she speaks again, so quiet he almost misses it. 

“It’s hard to eat again.” 

Heart dropping, Eddie softens his tone. “Again?” 

She nods, biting at the inside of her cheek. “I used to– like, not eat, or whatever. I don't know, I forgot sometimes, and- I wasn't hungry. But now I’m–” she sighs through her nose, pursing her lips. “Now I’m throwing up, okay? And I’m fine, I really fucking am, but I’m also– also not. I don’t...” she cuts herself off, clearly frustrated. 

Nodding, Eddie leans back in his chair to keep from reaching out. From taking her hand, or something mushy like that. He knows Steve would. Maybe that’s why she came here. Max does not like being coddled, and Eddie does not like to coddle. 

Still, he's out of his depth here. A kid has come to him, is currently sitting with him in his kitchen - however unwilling - and is opening up. Fuck, he wishes there was some kind of script, some kind of checklist, and more than anything he wishes Steve was here, and isn't that a dull ache? 

“You know, Red,” he starts haltingly. “I may not be the– epitome of what a role model should be, but maybe... maybe that’s a good thing.” He hunkers down a little more soundly, elbows on the table. “I’ve already done the stupid, dumb stuff. I’ve learned the lessons for you, which means I can bestow what I’ve learnt upon you-" he raises his hands in a little flourish, "so that you don’t have to make the same mistakes.” 

“It’s not the same,” Max says, stubbornly avoiding his eyes. 

Eddie makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Shit, of course it’s not the same– girls are policed by shame, boys– I mean, we’re supposed to be–” he throws his arms up, mimics being stronger, talking in a lower register, “Stoic and manly and shit.” He drops his arms, pleased to see her lips twitch up. “But if I were you, I’d see that as all the more reason to fight it, not accept it as the gospel truth.” 

“I don’t,” Max says. She sighs, irritated. “Shit. I don’t, okay? This isn’t about– I don’t do it because I feel ugly, I just do it when I’m stressed or, like, anxious, or whatever. it makes me feel less bad about everything. And Lucas shouldn’t have to deal with that, he shouldn't have to–” She snaps her jaw shut, looking away quickly. 

“Oh, is this about guilt, then?” he asks. Wonders how long he can get away with picking her brain before she leaves. “About deserving, about earning forgiveness? Because, I’ve gotta say, Red, that always sounded like a bunch of bullshit to me.” 

He doesn't bother mentioning why, because what is she going to do with my father didn't want me, says I was born wrong, and Wayne says it's not true but I still- 

“I don’t believe in God,” Max says, rolling her eyes. 

“Nah, but this is Indiana. The tap water’s practically laced with Catholic guilt.” 

When Max’s lips twitch up at that, Eddie’s heart calms a little. Okay, maybe he’s got this. 

“I’m gonna tell you a little something, okay? It’s a true story. Eye for an eye, or whatever.” 

Max nods, wrapping her hands around the mug again. This time, she find Eddie’s eyes. 

“There was this boy, right?" he starts nervously. "He wasn’t really popular in school, didn’t care about what people said about him because it’s all the same shit, in the end, but, uh. In school, there was always this one, um, girl, and her posse. She was his one exception, the one person in all seven layers of hell they call High School that got to her.” Eddie swallows. Twists a ring on his finger. “And it wasn’t because she was meaner, or smarter, or more persistent than the others. No, the reason she got to him is because he liked her.” 

“What’s his name?” 

Eddie whips his head to her, but Max stares him down, keen eyes trained on him. 

“Who?”

Max rolls her eyes. “The girl. What’s his name?” 

Agonised, Eddie says, “Red, I don't know what–” 

“If it’s Tommy H. I’m leaving–” 

He reels back. “Fuck no–” 

“Then who–” 

“Steve,” Eddie snaps. Max widens her eyes. “Steve Harrington.” 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah.” 

“No wonder you’re fucked up.” 

“Ha!” Eddie barks, before sinking further into the seat, hands coming up to his face. He takes a second there, to gather himself away from sight. Because now Max knows about him, which is– which is fine. She’s also known about a hellish third dimension for years without breathing a word about it to anyone. But this– this is different. He knows it is. 

But the way she’d asked… like she already knew, almost? He lowers his hands and meets Max’s searching eyes. 

“Sorry,” she says after a moment, awkward and stumbling, like she’s not used to saying it. “I didn’t mean to, like– I know it’s like, a big deal–” 

“No, hey, it’s fine, Red,” Eddie says. Takes a deep breath. “I mean, assuming I don't catch you frolicking through Hawkins tomorrow telling everybody the town freak is a fa-" 

“Ah!" Max covers her ears, glowering at him. "Don’t call yourself that.” 

Surprised, Eddie cocks his head. "Why not?" 

"It's just-" Max flaps her hands. "It's just not a nice word." 

"Nah, guess not." Eddie twists his ring around before looking back up. "But I'm gay, so, y'know. Context is everything." 

“It doesn't-" Max spreads her hands on the table. "I mean, you can say it obviously, but what if someone hears you? Kids my age? They'll think you say it like Tommy H says it." 

Eddie blinks, briefly thinking of Will Byers. Blinks again when he realises she referred to herself as a kid. “No, okay, yeah,” he concedes. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that.” 

They both take a sip of their hot chocolate. A brief interlude before Eddie purses his lips, setting his mug down again. 

“What I was trying to get at,” he says into the silence, “Was that, uh– you know. Guilt comes in many forms. Back then, I tried to change, conform, contort- tried to, like– mould myself into something he could want. Become a different shape, a shape little old me simply wasn’t born to be,” he smiles self-deprecatingly. 

He clears his throat. “And then, you know– the Upside Down happened. Harrington saved my life. Saved my life, when I- I left Chrissy.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “Harrington’s a better man than I’ll ever be, and realising that? Goddamn if that didn’t fucking suck. Like, how embarrassing is that? The guy who palled it up with Tommy H, the guy who– shit, I shouldn’t be telling you this– what I’m trying to say is– I had a revelation, right? And it’s thanks to Steve. He told me… he told me the bravest thing I could’ve done when Chrissy died,” he falters a bit, but clenches his fist, “Was run. Because– you know, there was nothing I could do. But that’s not how it feels.” 

He hopes she can hear what he’s trying to say– that Billy wasn’t her fault. That Vecna feeding on her hurt and self-hate was never her fault. Was always a consequence, never a personal failing. 

"He told me not to be a hero, right before everything. Like he knew I was- I was preparing to die, how fucking sick is that? But if he hadn't said it..." he swallows, watches the way Max's eyebrows furrow, because here, too, they are very similar. 

“And, Max,” he says, opting to use her real name this time. “There’s no shame in being stuck. The shit you’ve been through is fucking– it’s intense, alright? And trust me when I say nobody else in this shitty little town is okay either, not after everything, but– you got the brunt of it. You saw shit I wouldn’t wanna touch with a ten-foot pole. Of course you’re not okay,” he finishes, feeling lame. 

Subtly, Max swipes at her face. Eddie feels his chest crack open a little, wishing so intensely he could take her pain away, carry the load for her. She's just a kid. Shit, they're all just kids. 

The thing about recovery is this: you either deal with it, or you don't. Either way, what happened will in some way define you. Every day, at least in the beginning, you have to actively choose to keep going. You need family, you need a safe place to fall apart. Like Max, Eddie wasn't sure he had either. But he does, and so does Max. A big, messy, loving family with good intentions and the patience to listen and understand. Just so happens it's made up of Hendersons, Sinclairs, Byers, Wheelers, Munsons, a Harrington, a Buckley, and a Mayfield. Max just has to realise it. 

"It's just-" she takes a shaky breath. "It's just... hard." She shakes her head. "Shit, that's so lame, but it's like I can't find the words. Like, I want to talk about it, but it just- it won't come out." 

“Hey,” he says softly. “There's no expiration date on, y'know, opening up. If it takes five, ten years, that's okay. And- look, you can totally kick me if this is a stupid offer but... you can come here, you know? In the future? Like you did tonight, just without the uh, you know, intention to buy drugs– oof–” 

Eddie freezes when Max suddenly flings herself at him, arms coming up to wrap around him. She buries her face in his shoulder. Blinking rapidly, Eddie moves his arms to hug her back, heart swelling. 

A long minute ticks by before Max speaks, voice muffled in his shoulder, “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll shave your head in your sleep and glue your stupid hair to your pot handles.” 

Startled, Eddie laughs, throwing his head back a little. Max pulls away then, swiping quickly at her eyes before levelling him with a red-eyed look.  

“Okay,” he smiles, holding out his pinkie. “My lips are sealed, Red.” 

Max hooks her pinkie with his, and finally, smiles.