Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There's something wrong with Steve.

Okay, maybe that's unfair. These days, Will has to admit that he's a little (a lot) hypersensitive to anything that even resembles weird, but really, Steve isn't actually acting weird at all. Or, well, not any weirder than the rest of them, faced with a town that seems to be falling further into the Upside Down every day. None of them are coping particularly well, and what would normal even look like anymore? Will sure can't remember the last time he felt normal, and it would be unfair to hold any of the others to a different standard.

But there's still something, something about Steve in particular, that Will can't bring himself to trust isn't going to turn into a bigger problem. Look what happened to Max when they weren't paying close enough attention. Look what happened to Billy. Look what happened to Will himself.

His bad feelings usually mean something, ever since…well, ever since, so as much as Will wants to, he can't ignore it.

It's not like the Mind Flayer, though, not like Vecna, or One, or whatever they should be calling their adversary at this point. It's not the crawling, wrong feeling at the back of Will's neck, not exactly. But it's not entirely different from that, either. Something like gentle nails on a chalkboard, something like a shiver up his spine. Not as noticeable, or as threatening, as his usual Upside Down-y feelings, but definitely there.

And only around Steve.

Will goes to the Party, because who else is there, really? It hurts, hurts like being punched in the gut and stabbed in the chest at the same time, being around Mike and El. But no matter what's going on with Will personally, Mike is still, always, one of his best friends, and he seems like he wants to prove it, lately. And El is Will's sister, in spirit if not by blood, and she's basically always the best equipped to investigate anything supernatural.

It's hard to persuade Lucas to leave Max's bedside, even just for a short time, but he must see something in Will's eyes that convinces him it's important because he agrees to meet them at Hopper's cabin the next day. Dustin, too, nods that he'll be there, although he looks like he hasn't slept in days, hollow-eyed and pale and sad, still walking with a noticeable limp even though it's been weeks since everything that happened.

Everybody is busy, of course. Helping where they can, planning for who knows what. Steve and Nancy and Jonathan and Robin are taking volunteer shifts and regularly patrolling the gates to make sure nothing is creeping out of them that shouldn't be. Hopper took exactly three days to recover from Russia before returning to his old post as Chief – a post the rest of the department seemed all too eager to hand back over. And Joyce is helping out at the school in between trying to find a place for their family that isn't the Wheelers' guest rooms.

(Sometimes Will misses their old house, and Castle Byers, the way Castle Byers was before he tried to tear it apart. Not often, not since he fell into the Upside Down, but sometimes.)

The point is, though, the adults (and adult-adjacents) are all distracted, which means they don't notice how twitchy Will is. He's grateful for that one small blessing, at least. He's had enough of people coddling him. He knows he's a freak, in a lot of different ways; he doesn't need constant reminders about it.

By the time his friends have all gathered at the cabin, at least he isn't the only one looking a little jumpy. The woods never used to feel dangerous, but now with the otherworldly particles constantly falling around them like toxic snowflakes, the trees dying by steady increments, the sky the color of a fresh bruise, it's hard not to imagine all the things that could jump out at them when their backs are turned.

Who knows where gates might start opening now that Vecna has a hold in their world. Who knows when the monsters will start pouring out.

(Who knows why they haven’t already.)

"Okay, tell us why we're here," Lucas says, already glancing back towards town like Max is calling to him from her comatose state.

Will wants her to get better. Of course he does. Max is a good friend and an integral part of the Party, and she doesn't belong trapped in a coma with all her limbs broken. But Will still wishes Lucas could focus for twelve seconds.

At least swallowing down his frustration is something Will is becoming skilled at. "I think there's something weird going on with Steve," he says, not bothering to tiptoe around the issue because there's no point.

El's gaze sharpens immediately. Mike blinks. Dustin looks scared. Lucas manages to drag his eyes to Will for long enough to raise an eyebrow at him and fold his arms.

"I mean, he's been pretty down," Dustin tries, sounding desperate. "After Ed—After everything that happened, I mean, he took it pretty hard. And he still hasn't heard from his parents in Majorca or wherever they are right now."

"No, it's more than that," Will says, because he already considered the possibility that Steve just seemed weird because he was moodier than normal. He wishes that's all it was.

"What makes you say that?" Lucas demands, and Will realizes that the look he's wearing doesn't mean Lucas doesn't believe him. It's that Lucas doesn't want to believe him because he's scared, too.

Will rubs the back of his neck; he feels Vecna's creeping presence on their plane damn near all the time now, so it's more habit than anything, but it still makes El suck in a harsh breath, and Will hastens to reassure her. "I don't think he's possessed, or anything. But there's something…weird, I can feel, when he's close by. It's not…I don't know how to explain it, but it feels…different. Than it should."

"Like, what," Mike asks, slowly. "Like his…his aura, or whatever?" He wiggles his fingers, tries to make a joke of it. They're all too tense for that, so it falls flat, but the effort is still something.

Will shakes his head. "I don't know. I just know it's something about him that isn't right. Like a…like a disturbance in the force, you know?" That gets one or two very small smiles. "I thought…" He shoots a pleading glance at El. "I hoped maybe you could try to find him, just to see. Maybe I'm crazy, but—"

"You're not crazy," El says. She sounds defiant about it, and Mike takes a step closer to Will, reaching out like he wants to reassure but isn't sure if he's allowed.

Will would like nothing more than to have Mike touch him, a hand on his arm or his shoulder, the warmth of his skin melting into every part of Will that constantly feels cold. That's part of the problem, and why he stubbornly doesn't acknowledge that Mike has moved at all.

"If there's something wrong with Steve," Dustin chokes out like it hurts him to do so, "then we definitely need to know. Sooner rather than later."

El is already reaching for the strip of fabric she keeps in her pocket, and they all settle around her as she flips on the old radio to static and sits cross-legged on the floor and ties it around her eyes. Will knows that finding people works better when she has the sensory deprivation baths, but she never has much difficulty if it's someone she knows, someone close to them. And Steve, much to his own chagrin, has been a pseudo babysitter to all of them, even El, for years now. Even long after they stopped needing anybody to look after them.

He's a friend, and Will knows that El cares about him as much as they do.

"I see him," El murmurs after only a few moments. "He’s with Robin." Her brows furrow. "There is a boy…"

"Jonathan?" Will asks, because it's a reasonable assumption, there are only so many people Steve hangs around with, but El shakes her head, and a crease appears on her forehead. She's puzzled.

"He is like a shadow," she says. "They don't see him. He is scared. Lost." She shudders, and Will wants to touch her arm, reassure her that they're here and she is not lost, not anymore, not ever again if they can help it. But touching her would break her concentration, and they need to know.

"Can you describe him?" Dustin asks.

"He is the same age as Steve, I think." El makes a considering noise. "He has longer hair, curly, dark. A shirt like the one Mike wears sometimes. Hellfire Club."

Mike sucks in a harsh breath, and Dustin reaches over to grip Lucas’s arm. “El, are you sure?” Mike asks. “Really, really sure?”

“Is he wearing a bunch of rings?” Dustin demands.

“Yes,” El says, a single response to both questions.

“Do you know who she’s talking about?” Will asks them, because he doesn’t know anybody who looks like that, but clearly the description means something to them.

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas all stare at each other with varying levels of disbelief. Dustin looks like he might cry when he answers, “It’s Eddie. She sees Eddie.”

***

“You know,” Robin says, giving Steve a look. “I really wouldn’t have thought that was your style, but you’re wearing it an awful lot.”

Steve ignores her, focusing very hard on the peanut butter sandwich in front of him.

Yes, he’s wearing the denim vest more and more often, and no, he doesn’t really understand why. A tribute? A reminder?

Guilt?

Okay, yeah, it’s probably the guilt thing. Steve is trying not to think about it too hard, because Robin has already heard all about the guilt thing, and she thinks he’s an idiot for it. It’s not worth rehashing it all over again. Even if she definitely sees right through him.

“Helloooooo, earth to Steve!” Robin waves a hand in front of his face, and he ignores that, too.

“God, you’re annoying,” Robin says with a hmph. “Eddie would probably tell you you’re an idiot, you know.”

It’s true. In the short time they’d all known each other, Eddie had agreed with Robin more often than was probably good for Steve’s sanity. He thinks they would have been really great friends, in another universe.

A universe where Eddie didn’t—

Peanut butter. And jelly, can’t forget the jelly. Jelly is the heart of a PB&J sandwich, after all.

He can feel the way Robin’s eyes go all troubled and sad. It feels like she’s staring pitying laser beams into the side of his head.

“Steve—”

“Drop it, Robin,” he says, very quietly. Darts a look over to her, pretends he can’t feel the stinging in his eyes. “Please?”

She sighs.

But she drops it.

Steve makes sandwiches through what counts as a “lunch rush” with the still-traumatized Hawkinsers, then goes to help sort clothes on the other side of the gymnasium. He works until he’s so tired he can’t think, long past the time when even Robin has given up and left (though not without several attempts to drag him away by the hair), and then he finally trudges home himself. Hoping that if he’s tired enough, ragged enough, the nightmares won’t find him.

He’s not expecting Eleven and Dustin and Will to be sitting on his doorstep, and he trips over a crack in the sidewalk in his surprise.

Smooth, Harrington, he hears in his head, and winces because that internal voice has stopped sounding like Robin or Nancy and started sounding like Eddie, and he doesn’t know how to make him go away. Doesn’t even know if he has the right to want him to go away.

(Doesn’t want him to go away, not really, and that might actually be worse.)

“Guys, it’s not a great time,” he tries, weary down to the bone. “Also, shouldn’t you be at home?” There isn’t an official curfew, but Steve knows that all the kids have been on pretty short leashes since Vecna broke the town. El hasn’t even been willing to be far from Hopper’s side since he got back, like she’s afraid he’ll disappear if she turns around.

“It’s important,” Dustin says, bouncing to his feet before the other two have even fully acknowledged Steve’s presence. “Seriously. We have to talk to you, and it can’t wait.”

Steve eyes them warily. “Are there monsters?” Please, God, let them have a little more time before there are monsters again.

“No,” El says.

“Then—”

“There are ghosts.”

That brings Steve up short, and he blinks at her, then at Dustin, then at Will, who’s hanging back and biting his lip and looking uncomfortable in that way he only looks when something is going on that’s Upside Down-related.

God damn it.

Resigned, Steve unlocks the door and ushers them inside.

Steve hates his house. The kids have all been here before at one time or another, but generally, Steve avoids it if he can. His parents are always off at one conference or vacation home or another, they’ve been leaving him alone for weeks at a time since Steve was thirteen. The house is too big and too quiet and holds too many memories Steve would rather forget. And in the gloom of the encroaching Upside Down, it’s worse than ever.

But even if it’s never really felt like one, it’s home, or the closest Steve has to one. Sometimes, when he hangs out at the Wheelers’ or the Byers’ or even Hop’s tiny cabin, Steve has to fight not to feel jealous of his friends. Homes that feel like homes, parents who give a shit about them…

It’s just gotta be nice, is all Steve is saying.

He grabs a beer from the fridge for himself, sodas for the kids, and flops onto the couch. “Okay. What’s the emergency?” he asks on a sigh, popping the top on his beer and chugging it, ignoring the unimpressed looks he gets in return. “Something about ghosts?”

Ghosts. That’d be a novelty, compared to the usual toothy monsters from hell.

“A ghost,” Dustin corrects. “Just one.” His eyes are filled to the brim, and his lower lip is wobbling, and God help him, Steve knows what’s coming before Dustin says it. “Steve, it’s Eddie.”

Steve thinks he should feel cold, or numb, or something. Mostly, he just feels exhausted. “Guys. Eddie is…he’s gone.” The words are raw, scraping out of his throat like razor blades, bloody with the effort.

“He is here,” El says, direct in that way only Eleven knows how to be direct.

Steve rubs a hand over his face, leaning back so he’s speaking more to the ceiling than to them. “What does that even mean?”

“I felt him,” Will offers. Even without looking at him, Steve can practically feel how fidgety he is. “Or, well, I felt something around you. So I asked El if she could look.”

Sometimes, Steve really appreciates El’s power. God knows it’s saved their collective asses more than once. But sometimes, he really hates it, hates that she has the power to just spy on them whenever she wants, and they would never know. It makes him feel like there are things crawling on his skin, the idea that she’s been in his brain, seeing him when he didn’t know she was there.

But it’s El, and she’s one of Steve’s kids, damn it, so he tries hard not to hold it against her. She’s never thought of it that way, and it’s not like it’s her fault that this is who and what she was trained to be. It’s not her fault that she’s even needed to use her power so often. It’s definitely not her fault she has so many reasons not to trust anything or anyone, and the fact that she does trust them is basically a miracle.

“Okay. So she looked for me,” Steve says, flicking a glance at El, who doesn’t even bother to look apologetic or uncomfortable. Fair enough. Why should she? “And?”

“And Eddie was there!” Dustin says, too loudly. “He’s there, he’s here, El says somehow he’s connected to you.” His gaze rakes over Steve’s torso. Specifically, the denim garment over it. Something angry crosses his face, in a way Dustin has never, ever been angry at Steve before, and Steve fights the urge to cross his arms over his chest and hide as much of the vest as he can from view.

“Come on, guys. Ghosts?” Steve stares at El. “Have you seen anything like that before, ever? Are we sure it’s not just…” He waves a hand. Wishful thinking?

But why would El wish for that? She never met Eddie.

“No…” El says slowly. “But the Upside Down is…the Upside Down.” She shrugs, and, well, she’s not wrong. It’s not like they understand anything about their little alternate hell dimension, except for the few puzzle pieces they’ve gotten about Vecna and El’s role in all of it. They don’t know all the monsters that live there, or all the ways it can affect their world.

And Eddie died in that place. His body is still there, unless it’s been eaten.

Steve closes his eyes against that thought, fighting down a wave of nausea.

“We think I can sense him because of the True Sight,” Will says. He’s staring hard at his feet, but he manages to sneak a glance up to meet Steve’s eyes for half a second. “Because, you know, I’m so connected to the Upside Down. Same reason El can see him when she goes to that between space. Nobody else seems to. And it’s…it’s definitely you he’s connected to.”

Wow, Steve is hating this more by the second. Not even for his own sake, but for Eddie’s. Christ, if there’s any fate worse than death, it’s got to be being forced to follow around the guy who was responsible for it in the first place. Steve closes his eyes, swallowing. “So what can we even do about it?” he grits out. “He’s already…he’s gone. I can’t see him, or talk to him, or…could you even talk to him?” he demands of El.

She shakes her head. Of course not. That would be too easy. “He is aware, though. He sees what’s happening near him.”

Jesus. Being a ghost must suck.

“Okay, look, first of all…” Steve’s hand rakes through his hair, and he winces when his fingers snag in the tangled strands. It’s been a long day, and he hasn’t slept in a week. Personal grooming hasn’t been a priority. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, okay?” he says to El, catching her gaze and holding it so she knows he means that. “But I need a little more here than just…this. What if you…” He glances over at the radio perched on the mantle. She can project the voices of people she finds, can’t she? Like, into radios and walkie talkies and stuff? Would it work on a ghost? “If Eddie’s here, then he knows you’re here right now, and he knows we’re aware of him, right? So if you were to look for him, specifically, he could…say something, yeah?”

El’s eyes brighten, and she follows his gaze to the radio. Stares at it thoughtfully.

“Holy shit,” Dustin breathes. “That would totally work, right?”

“Maybe,” El says. Probably because, well, ghost. She doesn’t know any more than they do, for once.

“Let’s try it!” Dustin digs in his pocket and whips out a folded sheet of paper. One of the graffitied missing posters Wayne Munson had hung, at first. Before he found out his nephew was actually gone, and not just missing. It’s been marked up with a red marker, giving Eddie horns and a pitchfork, and there’s a symbol probably meant to represent Satanism or whatever underneath the photo. Steve sighs.

This town.

El takes the photo from Dustin, giving him a small smile. “Thank you,” she says, and takes the strip of fabric from her pocket. Steve moves over to give her room on the couch to sit, but she opts for the floor in front of him, cross-legged and straight-backed.

“Eddie?” Dustin says to the seemingly empty air. “If you’re here, El’s gonna do this thing so she can see you. You remember Steve telling you she had superpowers, right? So, you can try to talk to us, and she’ll make it that we can hear, okay?” He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking excited and hopeful and happy for the first time in weeks. Steve really hopes this work, for his sake if nothing else.

He can’t say he has a lot of hope, though. He doesn’t think the kids are wrong, necessarily. But.

Well.

El is quiet for a long time, and then she says, soft, “Eddie.”

She’s found him.

She’s found him. Steve’s fingers dig into his thighs and he stares at her without even daring to breathe. It doesn’t seem like anybody else in the room is, either.

The radio on the mantle crackles.

“Holy shit—” It’s staticky, but absolutely, undeniably Eddie Munson. “Holy shit I’m here I’m here I’m here oh god oh man I can hear myself on the radio this is wild oh my god. Guys, I’m here I’m here what the fuck.”

Steve is crying. He has no idea why he’s crying or when he started, but he drags in a breath that feels like it shatters his lungs, and realizes his face is wet and his vision is blurred and then he sees Dustin’s face, and all at once he’s openly weeping. Folded over on the couch, his face in his heads, sobs tearing free hard enough, it feels like, to break bones. His ribs hurt. His heart hurts.

He can’t hear what else Eddie might be saying through the old radio, but it doesn’t matter anymore, not right now. It’s enough to know that he’s here.

Eddie is here.

There is literally no reason for Steve to feel broken by that revelation. None. He and Eddie weren’t close. They tolerated each other at best for most of their brief acquaintance, and even going through horrifying experiences like being trapped together in an alternate dimension and then fighting to save the world together can only account for so much of what he’s feeling right now.

He doesn’t realize Will has settled beside him on the open space on the couch until his hand comes to rest between Steve’s shoulder blades, rubbing gently.

Steve is supposed to be the one comforting these shitheads, damn it, not the other way around, and that’s what finally gets him to drag himself together and refocus. He takes a few shallow breaths, then a few deeper ones. Clenches his hands to stop them from shaking, and scrubs his face on his sleeves.

“Aww, Harrington,” he hears crackle through the speakers. “Tears? For little old me?”

“Shut the fuck up, Munson,” Steve says thickly, but he’s laughing, too, and neither of them point out the mess that Dustin is as Steve holds an arm open for him on his other side, which Dustin all but leaps into, still sniffling as he buries his face in Steve’s shoulder and shudders. Steve swallows and says, “It’s really fucking good to hear your voice.”

“’S really good to be heard,” Eddie says. “But…El, right? You’re El? Mike told me so much about you I was starting to think you were a figment of his imagination, because you’re way too cool for him. And I definitely didn’t buy Steve going on and on about this girl he knew who had superpowers. But here you are, in the flesh, and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, it really is. But you gotta let go now, okay? You did enough for me today. Take a breather, supergirl.”

And he’s right. Steve sees the strain on El’s face. She’s been holding it for too long, and blood has slipped down from her nose to her lip as the crease between her brows deepens. She’s been working herself to the bone for weeks trying to find weaknesses in the gates; she was already tired before this.

Steve wouldn’t have expected Eddie to notice, and he wouldn’t have expected Eddie to sound so gentle about it. Eddie doesn’t know Eleven, and he has to be eager to make himself heard after weeks, weeks of being silent and invisible.

But then…well, Eddie has been taking care of most of Steve’s kids in his own way since he met them, hasn’t he? They’re practically estranged co-parents, at this point. Eddie probably feels at least partly as protective of them as Steve himself does, and El is an obvious extension of the rest of the group.

Plus, she has superpowers. Eddie seems like the kind of person who’d be drawn to a kid with superpowers.

Nerd, Steve thinks. Doesn’t acknowledge how fond it sounds in his own head.

El sighs and let’s go. The radio goes silent as she removes the fabric and opens her eyes, wiping the blood away with the ease born of habit. “Do you believe us now?” she asks.

Steve laughs around another ball of grief lodging itself in his throat, leaning over to rub the fuzz of her hair and pull her into an awkward hug that she doesn’t even pretend to fight him on.

“Yeah, I believe you,” he says, and chooses to ignore the fact that believing them still doesn’t offer the first clue about what they should do about it.

***

All Eddie wanted for weeks was for somebody to be able to see him, but now that somebody has, now that they all know he’s there, it just feels…weird. Well, weirder.

Eddie has spent most of his life feeling like a freak, it’s not like he’s a stranger to being stared at or talked about behind his back. And nobody is staring at him, anyway, except that Will Byers seems to have the uncanny ability to pinpoint exactly where he’s standing at any given time, sneaking glances in Eddie’s direction and rubbing at the back of his neck.

The point is, Eddie is used to being the freak. He thrives on it, really. But this? This totally sucks. He doesn’t mind being the freak, but he hates being the problem, and he feels like that’s all he is, now. Invisible, sure, but a problem as big and as present as an elephant in the room. He can both see and feel the way they tiptoe around him, awkwardly acknowledging his presence while carefully not saying anything that might upset him.

Look, Eddie is dead, right? It’s not like he’s gonna get deader over some hurt feelings or some bad news or whatever the fuck they think.

Even after everybody else goes home and it’s just Eddie and Steve, there’s a tension knotted around Steve’s shoulders like he’s way too aware that he’s not alone, and has no idea how to deal with it.

It was almost easier when nobody knew Eddie was around, and he kind of wants to beat Steve over the head with his own nail-studded bat, except it’s not Steve’s fault. Steve is just the one Eddie is stuck to like Velcro, apparently.

(Eddie can leave. He can go off and do other things, like see how his uncle is holding up or watch what’s happening at the high school or, if he was so inclined, go and visit the gates back to the Upside Down. He’s not so inclined, but he could. The problem is that no matter what he does, he always seems to end up back wherever Steve fucking Harrington is, and he doesn’t get why.)

He flops down against the wall in Steve’s room when Steve finally lies down to sleep, wishing to God he had a cigarette or a joint or something stronger that could calm his nerves, because ghosts shouldn’t even have nerves and yet here he is, filled with the shitty things.

“You know,” Eddie says carelessly, because there is at least some freedom in knowing he can say whatever the hell he wants and nobody will hear him. “It was real sweet, the way you got all emotional earlier.” He smirks, imagining the way Steve would bristle if he could hear Eddie. “A guy would almost think you cared. Like the way you keep wearing my vest, huh, what’s that all about, Harrington? Why do you care?”

The last part comes out more frustrated than Eddie wants it to, but fuck it, the vest thing has been bugging him for weeks, every time Steve throws it in the laundry and then immediately puts it on again, fresh and clean, pins fixed right back where they’re supposed to be, all over his own preppy shirts. It sure isn’t about style, because he looks ridiculous. (He does, he does, no matter what Eddie’s internal monologue might try to say otherwise about how King Steve is incapable of looking anything but irritatingly good.)

“Why do you care, Harrington?” Eddie demands, louder now. “Since when do you give two shits about me? Just because I died? Everybody fucking dies eventually. I’m not special.”

He's about the furthest from special someone can get, and he knows it. He’s a screwup, a problem to be solved. His mom didn’t want him, did she? Most of his ‘peers’ would be glad to be rid of him. The only people who ever thought he was worth something were his uncle, Hellfire Club, and Corroded Coffin, and most of those people were all freaks, too.

But they weren’t problems to be solved, not like Eddie. In a group full of freaks, Eddie is always the biggest freak of all.

So Steve doesn’t make sense. Steve Harrington is like the anti-freak. He doesn’t have a single freak bone in his entire body.

Then again, Eddie remembers the days they spent together. Steve helping him. Steve being the first to leap into danger, the first to try to help his friends. (His family, because Eddie knows what it looks like when you’d claimed somebody as family, and Steve had that found family vibe written all over him when it came to those kids and Nancy and Robin and even Mrs. Byers and Chief Hopper. Even Jonathan, Nancy’s boyfriend, who by all rights should be someone Steve despises. If this was any kind of world that made sense, anyway.

Clearly this world doesn’t, because somehow, Steve has been acting like Eddie was maybe on his way to becoming one of his people.)

Fuck, Eddie is starting to miss the days when his life was simple. When shit made sense. The afterlife is anything but simple, and doesn’t make any fucking sense at all.

***

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, when it’s dark enough and quiet enough that he can pretend he’s talking to a memory and not a ghost. His face is half mashed into his pillow and his eyes are squeezed shut against the shadows. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” My fault my fault my fault. It clamors around in his head so loudly that he can’t even be sure he hasn’t said the words out loud, and he hopes that if he did, it was quiet enough that Eddie didn’t hear.

Everything around him stays quiet, not even a rustle of the curtains from the open window, and it makes it easier to keep talking, even though he shouldn’t, even if he’s laying himself bare and raw and flayed open in a way he never, ever wants to do.

“You didn’t deserve to die. You didn’t…you shouldn’t have let me goad you into playing the hero. I meant it when I said not to, and what do you do?” Steve’s fists clench in his pillowcase. “I should have known. I should have… And Dustin…shit, he’s so messed up, man.” That’s on Steve, too, although Dustin has been too blind and too loyal to realize it so far.

But it’s on Steve all the same. Steve, who knew exactly what the Upside Down was and what it did to people, who knew how dangerous it was. And maybe Eddie had a taste of it, but Steve should have done more to prepare him. He should never have said what he said about not doing anything cute, not being a hero. Why would he say that, when he saw exactly how messed up the guy was about running away before? Jesus, that was practically a dare to somebody like Eddie, and Steve damn well knew it, he just…

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, and curls his face further into the dampening pillow.

It’s not enough. Nothing he says could ever be enough.

Chapter Text

Will can’t sleep.

He can’t sleep a lot of the time, so it’s nothing new, but he especially can’t sleep tonight, and for once it’s not about the nightmares. Well, not all about the nightmares. He’s sure they’re waiting for him the second he closes his eyes, and they’ll be more memory than nightmare, probably, but that’s not what’s keeping him awake right now.

He keeps thinking about everything Mike and Dustin and Lucas said about Eddie. About the kind of person he was. Eddie the Freak, people at school called him.

God, Will can relate.

On, well, multiple levels. They were both freaks, sure.

But more than that, they were both freaks who died in the Upside Down.

And here’s the thing Will hasn’t told anybody – not the doctors who poked and prodded at him after, not his mom, not Jonathan – nobody.

Will remembers when he died. He remembers because he’s pretty sure he was a ghost, too. Just for a little while, just while he was, like, actually dead, before Hopper and his mom got him breathing again, but he—

He remembers watching them trying to find him. Remembers screaming at them, but they couldn’t hear. He remembers them finding his body, and he remembers watching them fight to resuscitate him.

If they’d taken just a little bit longer, or if they’d given up just a little bit sooner, Will might be just like Eddie, now. Trapped, unseen and unheard unless somebody like El (and there was nobody else like El) stumbled across him.

There have been times in his life Will craved invisibility. There are still times where he wants desperately to fade into the background and go unnoticed. When the school bullies started calling him a fairy, or when everybody started whispering about the zombie boy. When Jonathan looks at him like he knows all of Will’s secrets and he’s just waiting for Will to be brave enough to tell him.

But Eddie’s situation kind of puts things into perspective. Will has never wanted to be that invisible, not really. Not to the people who care about him.

Will curls around his pillow, and tries to imagine who he might have gotten tethered to as a ghost.

Mike, probably. Because Mike was his favorite person even back then, and Mike had been so desperate to find him. Will thinks that would have translated into Mike anchoring him, like Steve is somehow anchoring Eddie.

When he was twelve, maybe Will wouldn’t have minded that so much, an afterlife as Mike’s constant invisible companion. Things were easier back then. Part denial, part hope, but Will has long since outgrown both of those things. Now, that sounds like the most exquisitely horrible thing he can imagine.

He’s glad that Eddie, at least, won’t suffer that indignity.

Will wishes he could have met Eddie before all this, wishes he could have known the loud and brash and crazy Dungeon Master his friends have raved about. Wishes he could have had another freak in his circle of friends, to maybe help him feel like he wasn’t so alone in his weirdness.

***

Eddie spends a lot of the next two days watching Steve. After the late-night rambling apology he was subjected to, he knows that Steve feels guilty for some mystifying reason (Eddie knows that guilt doesn’t always have to be logical, but, Jesus, why?), and now that he’s watching for it, the signs are all there. The poor sleep and the nightmares could be chalked up to generalized trauma, but Eddie’s vest is a big clue, of course. And he doubts that Steve’s past trauma has ever led to him dodging his friends, but that’s exactly what he’s doing to Robin and Nancy lately. Eddie could maybe understand if he was only avoiding Nancy, now that she’s reunited with her boyfriend, but Robin? Eddie’s pretty sure Robin and Steve are like…conjoined twins, at least spiritually.

Instead, Steve is working himself to the bone at the high school, helping everybody else but not letting anybody help him, and the more Eddie watches him, the more frustrated he becomes.

And sad. God, Eddie is sad, watching Harrington do this to himself for no goddamn reason.

He’s sad about Steve’s life in general, honestly. Eddie always had this vision of what it must be like to be Steve Harrington with the rich parents and the popularity that allowed him to rule the school and the endless parade of chicks he could have his pick of, but the truth is, Steve’s life kind of sucks, outside of his found family.

The rich parents are never around, and as far as Eddie can tell from the one side of the one phone call he overheard, Steve isn’t much to them but a disappointment, and one they’d rather not take the time to deal with. The popularity withered and died a brutal death sometime when Eddie’s back was turned and Steve fell in with Nancy instead of his usual douche friends. And whatever parade of chicks used to be around, Steve seems to be in the middle of a long dry spell in the dating department, too.

His social life mostly seems to be Robin and the kids. (And yeah, even dead, Eddie is still jealous. Steve gets to be there for Dustin, and Eddie, much to his own bafflement, would give a lot to have that same freedom.)

Steve doesn’t really try to talk to Eddie again after that one night, which suits Eddie just fine since it’s not like he can respond and that would just piss both of them off after a while, but sometimes Steve does this thing where he looks around all weird and furtive before doing something. Like Eddie’s going to judge him for drinking that extra beer or for smoking that joint Argyle slipped him two weeks ago before heading back to California. Like Eddie’s going to judge him for putting extra effort into his hair or something.

Steve doesn’t, it has to be noted, stop wearing the vest. Even once he knows that Eddie knows he’s doing it. If anything, he wears it more, like some kind of crazy defiance or something.

The look is, sadly, growing on Eddie. And anyway, he liked that vest. He’s glad it’s not just going to end up in a dumpster somewhere with the rest of his crap that even Wayne won’t be able to convince the thrift shop to take.

When he’s not busy watching Steve, Eddie spends a lot of time trying to figure out why he’s a ghost. He hasn’t seen any other ghosts hanging around Hawkins, so it’s not a common thing (unless they’re invisible to each other, too, and Christ that’s a depressing thought). Plenty of other people have died in (or because of) the Upside Down, so it’s not just that that makes him special.

Which leaves unfinished business, a trope Eddie has always scoffed at in ghost stories. It never made sense to him, really, because surely everyone who died had something they didn’t get to do.

Joke’s on him though, it looks like, because it’s pretty much the only thing that fits otherwise.

He doesn’t know what his unfinished business might be, of course, because that would be too fucking easy.

Sure, he never graduated (despite this being his year), but he doesn’t feel too broken up about that, really. Would’ve been nice, sure, but who cares in the scheme of things? If graduating had been that big a deal to him, he’d’ve done it years ago. He’s not actually stupid. He just had better things to do than study for tests that didn’t mean a damn thing outside the World of Academia.

There are other things it could be, though. Things he regrets not being able to do before he died, like playing a real gig with the band, or coming out to his uncle the way he’d always meant to but never actually had the balls to do. Things like clearing his name, which Hawkins will probably make sure continues to be dragged through the mud for the next fifty years, a monster story to scare their kids into coming home at reasonable hours. Don’t stay out past dark, remember what happened to Chrissy Cunningham when that devil worshipper Munson found her. (Eddie doesn’t even believe in the devil, which makes the whole thing a special brand of ironic.) Seeing Hawkins saved from that big cloud of dread hanging over it, all too familiar to the last sight Eddie saw before he bit it. (That one might be too big for unfinished business, but he still wants to see it just the same. This town may hate him, and his own feelings are pretty damn complicated right back, but he never wanted this.)

Anyway. There are things it could be, is the point. Eddie’s just not sure how he’s supposed to figure it out for sure, or fix it, for that matter. What with being, you know, dead.

Apparently he should just resign himself right now to being Velcro’d to Steve fucking Harrington for the rest of Steve’s life. Doesn’t that just sound like a treat?

***

Eleven comes back after three days, bright and way too early on a Saturday morning, wearing a determined look and trailed by almost the whole gang. Sorry, the whole Party, Steve thinks with a mental eyeroll, although it’s more fond than annoyed. He does love these shitheads, even if they live to make his life hell. Like making him drag his ass out of bed when the sun has barely risen.

God, he wishes the group was complete, but Max is still in the hospital, broken and unconscious. Even if Steve wasn’t checking in regularly himself, it would be evident from the way Lucas’s shoulders are slumped, his eyes darting back the way they’d come. And Erica is missing, too, although maybe that’s for the best. He’s not sure he can take her special brand of sarcasm this early in the day.

“We have an idea,” Dustin says without preamble, barging his way into Steve’s house before Steve can even say hello (or go away).

Well okay then.

“It was El’s idea,” Mike says in an undertone as he follows Dustin in past Steve. The train of teenagers continues with Will, who’s chewing on his lip, then Lucas, who just looks tired, and El, the only one to actually greet Steve at all, which she does with a small smile.

Someday Steve is going to accept that this is just his life now.

“Great. So. Idea?” Steve asks, herding the kids into the living room and then leaning in the open doorway, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “That you barged in here at ass o’clock in the morning to tell me about?”

It’s Dustin who answers. He looks manic, like he’s lost all sense of patience for real human interaction. Steve guesses it’s better than the sadness that’s been dogging him since that day in the Upside Down, but it doesn’t actually look much healthier. “El thinks she can connect you to Eddie so you can talk to him directly,” he says, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve demands, because he is really not awake enough for this. “Wait. Aren’t we already…connected, or whatever? Isn’t that why he’s following me around like a lost puppy?” He winces the second he says it, and Dustin glares at him. Steve is pretty sure Eddie is, too. The back of his neck prickles with it, and imagined or not, Steve was probably out of line with that one. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“In a way, yes,” Dustin says. “But obviously not enough or else you would have known he was there before Will and El had to tell you.” He still looks manic. He also looks angry. And sad.

And jealous, like he wishes he was the one Eddie was attached to instead of Steve.

Which, fair enough. Steve kind of wishes that, too, to be honest.

“…Right.” Steve says, then sighs and turns to El. “Do I even wanna ask the obvious question, like, how come you can’t just do it to everybody so everybody can hear him?”

“You are already linked,” she says promptly. “And, you have this.” El has never had much sense of, like, modesty, or personal space (at least around people she trusts), but Steve still isn’t prepared when she comes up to him and presses a warm hand to his side, and the scarred demobat bite. “Everybody here is linked to the Upside Down, but…some are more linked than others.” She looks up to meet his eyes as she says it, and there’s sympathy there.

It makes an unfortunate amount of sense. More linked, sure, like getting bitten by demobats who might be carrying traces of the Upside Down that are probably now swimming around inside him, like rabies on steroids. (He is never telling Robin his brain made that particular connection.)

“Great.” Steve sighs again. His lungs are going to get a good workout with all this sighing going on.

“It might not work,” El says after a short pause. Steve appreciates the effort, but it’s El. Steve is pretty sure there’s nothing Eleven Hopper can’t do if she has her mind set on it.

The whole town is banking on that, actually, even if they don’t know it.

“Well, what do you need to try?” Steve asks, because it’s not like he’s gonna say no, not when Dustin is staring at him like that, not when Will is looking into a seemingly empty corner of the living room like he knows something (someone) is there. Not when Eddie never asked for any of this and still suffered more than almost any of them for it.

Although, speaking of… “Wait, before you answer. Two things.” The kids all blink at him. Steve feels weirdly like he’s under a large microscope right now. “First of all, I want to make sure Eddie is okay with this. So you’re going to have to let him tell me, himself. Is that okay?”

El nods. Something about the way her eyes slant towards him and the corners of her mouth quirk up tells him she’s pleased that he thought of this. Thought to ask, rather than just do, regardless of what Eddie might think.

It’s only been in the last few years that Eleven has been allowed to make any decisions for herself. It never really occurred to Steve how much something like that might mean to her, but in hindsight, it’s pretty damn obvious.

“Okay. Good.” He clears his throat, feeling weirdly awkward in the face of El’s approval. “Second, I really hate to ask this, but what about the hive mind? Is that, like, a thing we need to worry about? If Eddie was killed there, by hive mind creatures…”

It’s Will who answers, his gaze shifting from the corner of the room and back to Steve with something like guilt, and a lot of hesitation. “He’s not part of the hive mind,” he answers, too sure by half.

“Okay, you can’t possibly know that,” Lucas says, crossing his arms. “Come on.”

“No, I…” Will flushes under the sudden intensity of the eyes that are staring at him. He looks to Mike for help, but Mike can only give him a sympathetic look and a shrug.

“It’s a valid concern,” Mike says. “I mean, I know we all want Eddie to be okay, but what if—”

“He’s not part of the hive mind,” Will says, suddenly fierce, and Steve remembers that Will doesn’t even know Eddie, never had the chance to meet him. There’s no reason for him to be overprotective of the guy. Yet even Dustin, the one most likely to support anything that helps Eddie, no matter the risk, isn’t coming to Will’s defense, and Will’s looking more frustrated by the second. “Ghosts aren’t part of the hive mind, okay? Trust me.”

“Trust me isn’t good enough,” Lucas says. “Not when it comes to that place.”

“It is when it’s coming from personal experience,” Will says, frustration turning rapidly to anger. “Or did you all forget that I died down there, too?”

In the sudden abrupt silence of the Harrington living room, Steve thinks that, yeah, possibly they did all manage to forget that small piece of information.

“I died,” Will repeats, shoulders slumping. “And…I was a ghost.”

“Badass,” Dustin breathes, and Will graces him with a sickly-looking grin. Steve is willing to bet there was nothing badass about it, if you were twelve-year-old Will Byers.

Holy shit.

“I know what the hive mind feels like, okay?” Will shoves his hands into his pockets and looks awkwardly around the room. “Being a ghost didn’t feel anything like that, not once, even when the hive was literally feeding on me. I still felt like me, all the way through, except…lighter.”

Steve snorts out a laugh, then immediately claps a hand over his mouth, but Will is grinning at him now, his eyes looking a little brighter than they did a moment ago.

“Anyway, it won’t be a problem.” Will concludes with a shrug, and visibly tries to shrink back into himself when nobody answers for a long time.

“Should I find Eddie now?” El finally asks, glancing around like she isn’t sure if she should be speaking or not.

“Yeah. Yes,” Steve says, because anything is better than this sudden awkwardness, Will looking like he wants to melt into the carpet, Mike staring at him with his mouth gaping open and his eyes a little wet, Dustin and Lucas both looking literally anywhere else in the room.

El nods, sits, covers her eyes. She breathes.

The radio crackles.

***

Mike told El about Eddie, in his letters and phone calls while she was in California. When Mike talked about Eddie, he made it sound like Eddie was…mythical, almost like a character from his Dungeons and Dragons game. The coolest, Mike would tell her, over and over. Just, the absolute coolest dude, seriously, El, you gotta meet him, he’s amazing.

El wishes she had the chance to meet Eddie when he was a living and breathing person. Somehow, she does not think that the shadowy version she sees hovering in the corner of the room is much like the Eddie Mike told her so much about. He looks scared, and sad, and lonely.

El has been all of those things, even all of those things all at once. She does not like the thought of someone who helped them, someone her friends care about, feeling that way.

“Eddie,” she says out loud, and the ghost turns. He must be looking at her physical body, sitting on the floor. She does not see herself, only Eddie and Steve. She can hear the rest of her friends murmuring in the background, but she focuses on Eddie. “I can see you. If you talk, they will hear.”

“Hey guys,” Eddie says, with a wave that looks awkward. Like he’s self-conscious, before he remembers they can only hear him, not see him. Still, he waggles his fingers at where she is presumably sitting, the rings on his fingers flashing. “Hi, El.”

She smiles.

“Did you hear what we were talking about?” That’s Dustin’s voice, and El can picture him, all of his frantic energy, likely bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. He loves Eddie as well, maybe even more than Mike, although El will never tell Mike she suspects this.

Love is not supposed to be a competition, she doesn’t think. But boys seem to make everything a competition.

They are a strange species.

“I did,” Eddie says slowly. “So let me just recap and make sure I’m understanding this right.” He clears his throat. “Thing one, and frankly the most important: I’m not going to become a zombie puppet for Vecna and Co. Which, I must say, is a goddamn relief. Leading us to thing two, our good supergirl here thinks she can…link me to King Steve…more than I already seem to be? So he can talk to me and I can talk to him without needing to use her as a go-between.”

“Correct.” Dustin says. “So you’ll do it, right?” His tone is pleading. El thinks Eddie can hear that, as well, because he reaches out like he wants to touch Dustin, before remembering that he can’t touch anyone.

Instead, Eddie looks to Steve, who is standing near him with his hands shoved in his pockets. Steve cannot see Eddie, so he is staring at the ground, instead. “Are you okay with this, Harrington?” Eddie asks, the crackle of the radio almost masking the way his voice wavers. “Not because of whatever guilt complex you’ve got going on, but—”

“I’m okay with it,” Steve cuts in, and El sees that his face is red. “Really. If you are.”

Eddie hesitates, searching Steve’s expression as much as he can when Steve isn’t facing him. He sighs. “Anything’s gotta be better than this, man,” he finally says. His tone suggests that it costs him something to admit it. “What’s the plan, Miss Eleven?”

She makes sure to speak from her body, with her real voice, so that he will hear her. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that most people cannot hear her like this. Like she is a ghost herself, almost. (The thought makes her shiver.) “I will have to go deeper,” she says. Warns. “Into your memories, both of you. It will be a…a violation.” She sounds the word out carefully. Joyce taught it to her, those first months in California, when all El wanted to do was see her friends, but she couldn’t, because she was powerless. She would scream with it, with the frustration of it, sometimes. She thinks Joyce was trying to comfort her by telling her why it was bad for her to seek them even if she could, but all it did was make El angrier, and sadder. “I won’t be able to control what I see there. And I do not know if it will work.”

Going into memories is her most unpredictable power. El has never used it for anything like this, but she’s sure it is the key to helping Eddie.

Both of them are silent for what feels to El like a long time.

“Well,” Eddie finally says. “I’m already dead. The fuck does it matter what anybody sees in my memories?” He shrugs, but his eyes are wide with something that looks a little like fear, and he chews on his lip like Joyce sometimes does when she’s very worried.

Steve takes a deep breath and releases it very slowly. “It’s okay, El. Let’s do it.”

“Okay.” The breathing of her living form is quiet, controlled. But here where no one can see her or hear her, it is faster. El remembers past times she has gone into someone’s memories, and it is almost never a pleasant experience. She tries hard not to be afraid of anything, but she is afraid of this. (She is afraid of so many things, but this especially.) “I’m going to start now,” she says. “Eddie, stand next to Steve.”

Eddie shuffles to stand to Steve’s left. His arms are crossed over his chest, like he is protecting himself. His arm brushes against Steve, and El is interested to see that Steve rubs his own skin as though he can feel it. El wonders if he can, if the ghost raises goosebumps along his skin or if it is only a psychological response to knowing Eddie is there.

El steps closer to them, looking first into Steve’s eyes – determined, the way he always seems to be when it comes to looking after the people he cares about, but also anxious – and then Eddie’s – worried, unsure, but also hopeful. She sees something that looks strangely like guilt, she thinks, in both of them.

Since escaping the Lab, meeting her friends, becoming family to people who love her in a way Papa never did or could… El has started to become more familiar with her own emotions, and what they mean, and why she might be feeling them. Sometimes she can understand the emotions of her friends, but sometimes she is still baffled by them.

She is baffled by many of the things she sees in both Steve and Eddie. But it is not her job to understand.

Her job…

…is this.

She reaches out to both of them, takes Eddie’s hand in her right and Steve’s hand with her left. “Let me in,” she whispers, the she that they can’t hear, not on any conscious level.

And then she’s falling, falling, falling—

reverse

Chapter Text

The girl, El, comes back to herself gasping, falling forward onto her hands and taking several deep, shuddering breaths before she takes a Kleenex from Mike to wipe at the blood running from her nose.

“Is she okay?” Eddie asks, forgetting for half a second that nobody’s going to fucking hear him. He doesn’t know what El did, but they just, like, stood here, waiting for her, and Eddie never really felt any different the whole time. (Except, maybe, that…warmth he thought he felt in his chest toward the end, that…light? But that was just his imagination, obviously. Had to be. Because nothing changed, he was still—)

“Yeah, this is nothing,” a voice from beside Eddie pipes up as the kids all crowd around El. “Eleven’s a lot tougher than she looks.”

Eddie spins to stare at Steve, who is…holy fuck, who is looking at him, one corner of his mouth twitching up.

“Hey, Eddie,” he says, and blows out a quiet breath as he reaches up to rake a hand through his stupid hair. “Yeah, for the record, nobody bets against El anymore.”

Holy fucking shit holy fucking shit. “You can…you…” Eddie is dangerously close to losing it right here in Steve Harrington’s living room, can actually feel the sting of tears behind his eyes and he won’t, he absolutely will not let them spill over, not now, but—

“I can see you,” Steve says, like that’s not world-shattering news, like that’s not the only thing Eddie has wanted since the day he came back like this. “It’s…wow, it’s really goddamn good to see you, Eddie.”

Eddie wonders why Steve thinks that, because they were barely something resembling friends before he…before he died, but now Steve is looking at him (somebody is looking at him!) with this…this weird sort of softness Eddie’s never seen anybody except maybe his uncle look at him with. Like he really actually genuinely cares, and Eddie knew it, okay, he’s seen the way Steve’s been since he died, even if Eddie didn’t get why. But it’s one thing to know it and another thing to have it directed at him.

Eddie Munson matters to Steve Harrington, and to someone who hasn’t really mattered to a whole lot of people, that’s enough to rock him straight to his core.

*

Steve is cool. He’s totally cool, he’s fine, faced with Eddie Munson’s Bambi eyes and flushed cheeks, his mouth still open in what Steve recognizes as shock. (Which, understandable. If Steve wasn’t used to El at this point, if he didn’t know just how capable she generally is at whatever she needs or wants to get done, maybe he’d still be able to feel some of that same kind of shock.)

Anyway, the point is…Steve is totally fine.

Okay, sure, he maybe wasn’t actually prepared to see Eddie – the kids had only said El’d be able to make it so they could talk to each other – but this is…more. Better, for sure, but Steve wishes he’d had time to mentally prepare himself.

And there’s some part of him that expected…

When Eddie turned towards him, part of Steve really expected to see him with blood pouring from his mouth, long gashes scarring his pale face and neck, chunks of him just outright missing. The way he looked the last time Steve saw him, dead in the Upside Down. When they’d had to drag Dustin away screaming so they could get the fuck out of there while they, at least, were still alive to do so.

Leaving the broken, bloody corpse of Eddie Munson behind to be a feast for whatever monsters found him first.

Bile rises in Steve’s throat at the thought, and he has to look away, because even if Eddie is whole now (besides, well, being a ghost), in his Hellfire shirt, ripped jeans, and leather jacket, not a drop of blood or dirt to be found, and his dark curls clean and soft-looking, he is still a really fucking awful reminder of all of Steve’s most recent failures.

Shit, shit, he was not prepared for this.

“Hey, Harrington.” Eddie circles him, forcing Steve to face him again unless he wants to be really obvious about avoiding Eddie’s gaze. “You okay, man? Seriously, if this is too weird, or… Well, I bet she can undo whatever it is she did, right?”

Steve shakes his head, not in denial (El probably could undo it, if he was desperate enough), but a flat refusal to even ask her. Because how unfair would that be to Eddie? To Dustin, and Mike, and Lucas, and even Erica, who isn’t here but only because he’s pretty sure they didn’t want to get her hopes up, because God, precocious as hell or not, she’s still so goddamn young to be involved in all this. The shitheads are bad enough, but Erica isn’t even thirteen yet.

(He ignores that she’s the same age Will was when he fell into the Upside Down. Ignores that she’s the same age those same shitheads were when they got involved. It’s not the point.)

“I’m good,” he says, taking a few deep, even breaths, like that will make it true. “Sorry. Just. I didn’t expect…”

“What, all this?” Eddie says with a smirk, striking a pose.

It drags a smile onto Steve’s face almost in spite of himself. God, how did he miss Eddie so badly that having him back feels like the return of a lost limb? It can’t all be guilt, can it? “You’re something else, Munson.”

“Even death cannot stop the power of good drama.” Eddie winks, and Steve laughs.

Dustin finally seems to clue into the fact that something is happening besides Eleven pushing herself to her feet, and he turns to stare at Steve.

“Did you say something?” he says, in a tone of deep suspicion.

“Wasn’t talking to you, buddy,” Steve assures him, and grins at Dustin’s whoop.

“It worked?” Dustin practically screams the words, his voice high and incredulous. Like he doesn’t know Eleven just as well as Steve does. Probably a lot better, in fact. Kid should really know better than to doubt her.

“Well,” Steve says, trying to sound easier than he feels. “Either that or I’m having a real trippy hallucination.” He wouldn’t really put it past his brain, actually, but he’s pretty sure the blood would be present if it was a hallucination. Hallucinations are basically nightmares you have while you’re awake, aren’t they? And Steve has had a lot of nightmares about Eddie dead.

A lot.

“It worked,” Eleven says, sure of herself.

“Wait, can you see him too?” Dustin asks.

“No, but…” She hesitates, searching for her words. “He feels more present.”

“I can see him,” Will says, hanging back behind the rest of them. He winces a little when everyone immediately turns to stare at him, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I mean, not well. There’s like…a smudge in the air where he’s standing, almost like a heat mirage. I mean, if that’s him. On the other side of Steve, just in front of the lamp.”

That is, in fact, precisely where Eddie is standing.

“This is freaky, man,” Eddie says. “Super weird. Now everybody is staring at me.”

Well, they’re staring at what is probably to them an empty spot, but Steve imagines it’s still pretty weird after the last several weeks Eddie has had, when nobody even knew he was there. “Can either of you hear him?” he asks Will and El, curious.

Both of them shake their heads.

“It’s you he’s connected to, right?” Will shrugs again. “So I doubt we could. I bet we’re only more aware of him because of our connections to the Upside Down, too.”

“Yes,” El says.

“Well, tell them I say hey,” Eddie says, with a little snort that Steve thinks sounds kind of self-deprecating. He dutifully translates though, tries not to wince when Dustin’s eyes immediately fill with tears and all of them start shouting at Eddie and demanding Steve tell them what he’s saying in response.

But Eddie is laughing, really laughing now, and that at least makes it worth it. Steve decides he’s just going to go with it for now. Let the kids be happy, let El feel like she accomplished something when there are so many other things she can’t figure out how to do yet (wake Max up, close the gates, kill Vecna, save their town…), let Eddie have the moment in the spotlight that he has more than earned (Steve hasn’t forgotten that Eddie is basically responsible for saving their lives, for giving all of them time they desperately needed without the demobats coming for them, even if the asshole went and sacrificed himself to do it).

Later, Steve will have time for the inevitable panic attacks in the (not quite) privacy of his own room. Time to wonder what the fuck he’s gotten himself into this time.

Later.

It can all wait until later.

*

Dustin’s had a lot of time to think of all the things he wishes he could have said to Eddie in those final desperate moments.

True, he’s also spent hours and hours and hours lying in bed thinking of all the things he could have done or said differently even before that. How he might have convinced Eddie not to do the stupid shit he went off to do in the first place. How he could have gotten there faster and provided backup, like that somehow would have meant Eddie lived instead of them both dying. He thinks a lot about what words he might have been able to find that could have convinced Eddie he was already a hero, that he didn’t need to sacrifice himself to prove it because Dustin already knew.

He thinks about all of that, too.

But mostly, he thinks of the things he wishes he could have said when it really mattered most, when they were the last words Eddie would ever get to hear. About what Eddie did for him, finding him and his friends among all the poor lost sheep of Hawkins High. About how much Eddie meant to him. About how much Dustin liked him and admired him and respected him, even if Eddie clearly didn’t think he was worth any of those things.

Now that he has the chance to say all of it, Dustin…can’t seem to say a word.

He was fine when the whole group was here, when he was running on adrenaline and anxiety and hope, but now that Mike and Will have headed back to the Wheelers, and Lucas and El have gone to see Max, and it’s just Dustin on the couch facing Steve and a ghost Dustin can’t even see, well.

He doesn’t know where to start.

Dustin asked if he could hang out here a little bit longer because he had things he wanted to say away from too many prying ears, so why can’t he say anything?

Steve is watching him with an expression Dustin doesn’t recognize. He glances to the empty air next to him, gives a slight nod that Dustin is sure he isn’t meant to catch, and that—

Yeah, that sucks. That sucks so much.

Eddie was Dustin’s before he was Steve’s. Eddie was never Steve’s, actually, because Steve never knew Eddie or cared about Eddie until the Upside Down didn’t give him any other choice, and yes, their entire circle outside of the Party seems to be made up of relationships that would never have existed without the Upside Down, but this is different.

This is Eddie.

“Hey, dude. You okay?” Steve asks, and Dustin realizes his expression has twisted into something a lot like anger. He tries to school it into something else, he really does. Judging by the look on Steve’s face, he doesn’t do a great job.

And, well, why should he hide it? He’s never bothered hiding when he’s mad at Steve before. They’ve been giving each other shit from Day One; it doesn’t mean Steve isn’t one of Dustin’s favorite people (usually), and he knows he’s one of Steve’s, too.

But.

“Henderson.” Steve visibly hesitates when Dustin looks up at him, then steels his expression and soldiers on. Soldiering on is one of the things Steve is best at. “You know you can talk to me, right? About whatever crazy shit is going through that thick skull of yours? This is a judgment free zone.”

“It shouldn’t have been you.” Dustin doesn’t mean to say it, definitely doesn’t mean to say it out loud, and he winces the second he does, looking down.

He feels more than sees Steve gingerly take a seat next to him, but he refuses to look over. Doesn’t want to see whatever is on Steve’s face now.

“Hey, Henderson,” Steve says, nudging his shoulder against Dustin’s. “Dustin. Come on, man, look at me.”

Dustin shakes his head, scrubbing angrily at his eyes. God, he’s so tired of crying. It feels like it’s the only thing he’s done for weeks, and what good does it do?

“Eddie,” Steve says quietly. “Can you, uh. Can you give us a second? I’m not sure if…okay. Okay, thanks, man.”

Dustin swallows hard, but it doesn’t do anything to dislodge the anger jammed in his throat.

No, not anger. Not now. It’s so much more bitter than anger. It’s jealousy, but recognizing that doesn’t do anything to make it go away.

“Sorry,” Dustin tries, the least sincere apology in the history of the world, and Steve isn’t afraid to call him on it with a raised eyebrow.

“The hell are you apologizing for?” Steve asks, nudging him again. “You’re allowed to be mad, Henderson. You’re allowed to be whatever you need to be. I mean, yeah, I’d like if we could work through it like grownups—” Here, Dustin snorts, and Steve smirks, “—but whether we can or not, there’s nothing wrong with whatever it is you’re feeling. It’s a fucked up situation, right?”

“Like most of the situations we find ourselves in these days,” Dustin points out, and Steve gives a single bark of laughter at that.

“You’re not wrong, buddy,” he says, shaking his head. “Look, you think it shouldn’t have been me that Eddie got stuck with, and I agree, okay? Really, no contest. You loved – love – the guy, and he loves you too. No joke, me and Eddie were fighting a custody battle over you the whole time we were all trying to help Eddie. You’re as much a…a brother to him as you are to me.”

The laugh sticks in Dustin’s throat like a barb. “I wouldn’t have accepted anything less than joint custody, with mandatory couples therapy so you could work out your issues.”

“Sure, buddy,” Steve says on a short laugh. Hesitantly, he holds out an arm, and Dustin crowds in, letting Steve hug him. It feels good, warm and comforting and safe, like Steve always feels safe. It’s good that whatever shit Dustin’s dealing with over Eddie can’t take that away. “It shouldn’t have been me,” Steve says again, quieter this time. “I know it. But it’s what we got, and I don’t know about you, but I’d rather have him here and stuck with the wrong person than not have him here at all. Yeah?”

Swallowing again, Dustin nods. “Yeah,” he agrees, because it’s true. Eddie is here, and that’s nothing short of a goddamn miracle. As much as Dustin wishes he could see him and talk to him like Steve can, this is still better than the alternative.

A world without any Eddie at all is a shit fucking world, as far as Dustin’s concerned.

“So, look,” Steve says. “I’m sure you’ve got shit to say to him, and he’s got shit to say to you, too. I’m happy to play translator, but if you’re not cool with that—”

“No, I am,” Dustin cuts in, taking a deep breath. “It’s cool. If you don’t mind me getting blubbery all over you.” If Steve’s not used to that by now, though, Dustin really doesn’t know what to say, because Steve’s mostly been the one dealing with Dustin since they dragged themselves out of the Upside Down.

“I’m gonna tell you a secret, Henderson,” Steve says, the corner of his mouth quirking up but somehow managing to look anything but happy. “I’ve been pretty blubbery myself lately. So let’s just suffer through it together and promise not to tell anybody after, deal?”

Dustin pictures both his and Steve’s respective friends. Imagines any of them being here to witness this conversation. No matter how well-meaning they would all be, he still shudders. “Deal,” he says. They seal it with their handshake, and something in Dustin’s chest loosens, just a little.

Steve calls Eddie back in.

And, well, it’s not perfect. And yeah, there’s a lot of blubbering including from their resident ghost, because Eddie is a big softie underneath the hair and the attitude. But it’s, like, cathartic or something.

It’s good.

*

“So,” Eddie says, when the house has finally cleared of teenagers and he feels…slightly recovered from his talk with Henderson.

God, that little shit really managed to weasel his way into Eddie’s heart with no warning. Rude as hell.

Steve glances up at Eddie from where he’s still sitting on the couch. One corner of his mouth tilts up. “So,” he agrees. He watches Eddie as he gingerly takes a seat beside him.

To Eddie, it feels normal, just another couch for him to plant his butt on. But when he looks down, there’s no dent in the cushion from his weight. It’s weird, and he doesn’t like it. It’s one reason he’s mostly taken to standing, leaning, or sitting on the floor. Where he doesn’t have to be reminded that he’s not actually real anymore.

“I don’t, uh. I don’t really know what we do now?” Eddie lets the end of the sentence trail up, making it a question. Hoping Steve has some answers, because Eddie sure as hell doesn’t. Doesn’t even know where to start. He still can’t believe whatever Eleven did even worked. It feels like a fever dream, or like he took some real trippy drugs, or something.

It doesn’t feel real.

“Like, right this second?” Steve asks. “Or in general?” Eddie graces him with a look, and Steve gives a short laugh. “Yeah, okay, fair. Dumb question. Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t have any better idea than you do, probably.”

“Dude, we barely even know each other,” Eddie says, and apparently, he hasn’t managed to do away with his general sense of frustration yet, because there it is, right on schedule. “And, what, you’re just gonna be leashed to a ghost for the rest of your life?”

“Well…yeah.” Steve blinks at him, like this should be the most obvious fucking thing on the planet. “I mean. I feel bad that you’re stuck with me, and I know it’s probably not your first choice. But I knew what I was signing up for, Eddie.”

“What the fuck, Harrington?” Eddie drops his head into his hands because anything is better than looking at Steve right now. “What the hell kind of plan is that? And also, for real, man, how are you like this?”

“Like what?” Steve asks, somehow managing to sound both frustrated and confused.

“So…” Eddie waves a hand, sitting up and staring at Steve in a way he knows has to look absolutely fucking manic, but seriously? “So good! You’re, like, caring and shit, to the point of being a self-sacrificing moron. People like you aren’t supposed to exist in real life, bestowing your goodness on us mere mortals. It’s—you’re just—” He huffs, falling forward into his hands again, tugging at his hair to stop himself from screaming more obscenities.

“I’m not…” Steve trails off. Sighs. “I’m really not all that great, man. I know you think—”

“Please shut up,” Eddie says. “Whatever you’re about to say, just don’t. Listen.” He sits up again, shoving his hair out of his eyes so he can fix them on Steve. He jabs a finger at him. “You, Steve Harrington, are a good dude. You might as well accept it because I have got plenty of evidence to support me at this point. I know you’ve got a guilt complex the size of the Grand Canyon, and I know you have a real bad habit of leaping into things face first without thinking about them very hard, which, relatable, honestly. But those don’t actually count against you in this case. I know you really like swinging that nail-studded bat around when there are monsters threatening your small hoard of adopted children. I know you feel like you have to be everything to everyone or you think nobody’ll want you around. I know you feel like you gotta make up for all those years you hung around with assholes like Tommy. And I know that you are a good fucking dude. Issues, sure, you got plenty of ‘em. Doesn’t change the facts.”

Steve is silent for a long time, and then he says, quietly, “I thought you said we barely knew each other.”

Eddie swears at him, but only under his breath. It still makes Steve smile a little.

“Look,” Steve says, turning to more fully face Eddie, and now he’s wearing his serious face. “I know you think I did this out of guilt, or because I’m a…” He coughs. “A self-sacrificing moron, or whatever. Also, like you’re one to talk. That’s not it, though. And it’s not even because I owe you, we all owe you, for saving our lives, although seriously, man, we owe you. If those demobats had come back while Vecna literally had our backs to the wall, we’d’ve been done. That’s not why, though.”

Eddie feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his own incorporeal skin, with the intense way Steve is looking at him. He covers it up with a loud sigh, manages to keep his voice from wavering when he says, “All right, Harrington. Then why, pray tell? I doubt it was for my quality fashion advice.” He raises an eyebrow, letting his gaze trail down to the vest. The vest.

Steve doesn’t even have the decency to blush. “No, I got that covered, thanks.” He gives Eddie another of those real tiny smiles that touches his eyes more than his mouth. “It’s because…I think we could be friends. I think maybe we almost were, before…”

Before.

Yeah.

“Maybe we were,” Eddie murmurs, and allows himself to consider it. The idea of Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington being friends.

A couple months ago, he’d have gotten a good laugh out of the idea. Might have suggested whoever said it visit the nearest psychiatric ward, but he sure would’ve laughed.

It doesn’t seem funny now, when they’ve literally been through hell together. When they’ve beaten and battled and bled side by side.

“Maybe we could be,” Eddie adds, because…yeah. He thinks he kind of wants that, and apparently, despite being dead, it’s still not too late.

What a crazy fucking world this is.

Chapter Text

Will wakes choking, a scream trapped in his throat and tears burning behind his eyes. He flies upright, clutching at the collar of his pajama top as he fights for air. For a moment (it feels like so much longer but it can’t be anything more than a few seconds), he’s twelve years old again, caught by the Upside Down, held down and screaming as the hive forces vines down his throat and around his limbs.

“Will?” The whispered name and the sound of rustling is what finally frees Will from the nightmare (the memory), but he’s still shivering so hard he feels like he might vibrate out of his skin when Mike asks, “Are you okay?”

It’s probably too dark for him to see Will’s rapid nod, and Will can’t bring himself to open his mouth and speak, so it’s not really surprising when Mike crawls out of his own bed and drops onto the corner of Will’s sleeping bag. He reaches out, and Will flinches back almost violently.

“Sorry,” Mike whispers. “Sorry, I won’t touch you. Just. Talk to me, dude. What’s wrong? Is it Vecna?”

Will swallows and it opens his throat enough that he can choke out, “No,” although…that doesn’t feel entirely true. “Nightmare,” he manages, but then he stops, wondering if that’s really all it was.

God knows he’s had plenty of nightmares, and his own experience in the Upside Down is barely a fraction of what his sleeping brain torments him with. The Demogorgon, the Mind Flayer, Vecna, everything he’s suffered and everything his friends have suffered, but…this feels different. There’s something else, something bigger.

“Will?” Mike inches forward as Will reaches up to touch the back of his neck.

“He’s angry,” Will whispers, closing his eyes, letting it wash over him when the only thing he wants to do is shut it down, fast. But they need every piece of information they can get about what’s happening in the Upside Down, and apart from El, Will is the best source they have.

He hates it, but if it helps…

“He’s really, really mad.” Will feels Mike’s hand come down on his shoulder again, and manages not to cringe back this time. He knows Mike just wants to support him, but… “He’s…he’s frustrated, I think.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” Mike asks. “Like, if he’s frustrated, that means whatever he’s trying to do to Hawkins isn’t working, right? Or something’s gone wrong in the Upside Down?”

Will shrugs, because there’s no real way to know. “I just know what he’s feeling, not why he’s feeling it. And he’s, like, full of rage. I can feel it like it belongs to me.” As painful as Mike being so close to him is, Will has to admit that it’s helping to keep him grounded. Not letting him get lost in Vecna’s emotions. He tries to keep that doorway closed for a reason; bad enough that he’s always aware of Vecna, but to feel what he’s feeling is horrible.

“We should tell El,” Mike says, because that’s his answer to basically everything.

Right now, though, it’s probably fair, so Will nods. Mike leaps up and holds out a hand to help Will climb unsteadily to his feet. His fingers are so warm around Will’s, and Will has to clench his jaw against everything that wants to come tumbling out of his mouth whenever Mike gets like this. Like…like he cares, more than Will knows he does. Or even can. Like he cares the way Will desperately wishes he did.

(He knows, he knows he can’t keep going like this. He knows he has to talk to somebody, has to find some way to purge Mike from his head and his heart, until Mike is just a friend again, not somebody Will wants as…

Not somebody Will just…wants.)

El is staying in the basement, although she was offered a cot in Nancy’s room. She’s comfortable in the basement, though, in the little hideaway she claimed when they were all so much younger. When she was still practically a stranger, and not the love of Mike’s life, not the sister of Will’s heart. Not even part of the Party, yet.

Will thinks part of it is also that she feels a little more hidden in the basement. She’s nervous being in the house at all, with that Sullivan guy after her, but Hop’s cabin needs a lot more work than they could get done in an afternoon, and living there would be almost as unsafe as living here. Especially when even the trees themselves can’t be trusted at this point, more and more of them dark and twisted with Upside Down rot.

She’s already sitting up as they creep as quietly as they can down the steps, the lamp by her bed providing a dim light for them to see by. She moves over and beckons to Will, to his surprise, instead of Mike. She must see something in his expression because she tilts her head. “You look like you need a hug,” she says, and that’s…fair.

And easier to accept from Eleven than it is from Mike.

He sits beside her and leans his head on her shoulder as she draws him in with one arm.

“What happened?” El asks.

Slowly, haltingly, between the two of them, Will and Mike manage to tell her. She never stops holding onto Will, her arm tightening around him whenever she feels him growing tense and upset.

Will loves her, so much. Hates himself for all the times he’s been jealous and bitter; none of his problems with Mike are her fault. They never have been.

“The gates,” El says. “They are not opening the way he expected.” The way Steve told them Nancy saw in the visions Vecna gave her, El means. The way there’s no apocalypse in Hawkins yet, and there maybe should be. “Max did not die.” These words are quiet.

“You think that’s why the gates only sort of opened but not all the way?” Mike sounds like Will feels – it’s a nice thought, but it doesn’t make much sense. Even if she didn’t stay dead, Max did die. For over a minute. That seems like more than long enough for hell to come to Hawkins.

“What else?” El asks, but Will can’t help noticing that she sounds unsure, too.

El sounding unsure is not a particularly comforting thing.

*

Steve keeps waiting for it to feel weirder. Having Eddie there, being aware of him, all the time. But so far, it doesn’t. It barely registers on the weird scale at all, even after Steve goes to sleep with Eddie’s eyes on him after a brief exchange of, “G’nights”.

(Honestly, if anything, it’s almost comforting, having another presence in the house that he can see and speak to. Steve has always hated this house. He hates it a lot more since the Upside Down claimed Barb.)

The next day dawns with the sight of Eddie sitting cross-legged in front of Steve’s tape collection, his mouth gaping in something that looks a lot like horror and his head shaking slowly back and forth, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Steve mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair and glancing at the clock. He doesn’t have a volunteer shift today, and the video store has been shut down since the ‘earthquake’ so he’s kind of at loose ends.

Steve hates being at loose ends.

“Steve. Steven. Steven J. Harrington.” Eddie gives him the saddest look, ignoring Steve’s muttering about how that’s not even his name. “This collection is going to make me cry, man. Genesis. Boston. Journey, my god, why. So overrated. So soulless.”

“Hey,” Steve says, because he really likes those bands. Eddie just gives him a pitying look. “Yeah, well, whatever. Good thing you’re here to show me the error of my ways, huh?” Steve says it absently, rolling his eyes, but then Eddie lights up like a Christmas tree, and he realizes he just made a gigantic mistake, because no way is he going to be able to do anything to dampen that kind of joy now. Which means he is, in fact, going to have to put up with Eddie trying to fix his taste in music.

“Excellent,” Eddie says, reverently, and Steve resigns himself.

“Anyway, you’ve been here for weeks, you’re telling me this is the first time you’ve looked through my music?” Steve doesn’t buy that for a second.

“Hardly,” Eddie says with a scoff. “This is just the first time I can give you the full force of my judgment.”

Fair enough.

Steve drags himself out of bed. There’s an awkward moment when he wonders if he should go into the bathroom to change (surely Eddie won’t follow him in there), but Eddie winks and disappears through the door and that’s that. Steve can’t help wondering if that’s what he’s done all along. He was so tired last night he didn’t even notice.

It’s not something he’s going to ask, that’s for sure.

Anyway, what does it even matter? They’re both guys, and Steve has gotten changed in enough locker rooms that it doesn’t bother him. It’s just…different, somehow.

With Eddie.

Steve blows out a breath, decides it’s not worth thinking about. He finishes changing and isn’t surprised when Eddie pokes his head in a minute later.

“Hey, man,” Eddie says, his hands shoved into the pocket of his jeans. “It feels weird checking in like this, but I think I’m gonna go see my uncle? And it would’ve felt weirder not to let you know. Because, like. Visible.” He says the last part with jazz hands, and Steve shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

“Course, dude,” he says. “And…I think weird is kind of our default at this point, so you might as well get used to it. But I appreciate the heads up.” Not a lie. If Eddie had suddenly disappeared after all this, Steve would have lost his shit, and he’s not ashamed to admit it.

Eddie gives him a grin and a sloppy salute, rings flashing in the early sunlight from the window, and then he’s gone.

For a long moment, Steve stares at the empty doorway, and then he shakes his head again.

Right, he thinks, steeling himself. Because there are certain things he needs to do sooner rather than later. Things he can’t do with Eddie around until he has permission to divulge certain secrets that aren’t his to give away.

Really, though, Steve just needs to tell Robin what the hell is going on, before she finds out from somebody else and beats him to death with his own bat.

*

Robin is seriously thinking about beating Steve to death with his own bat. Bad enough he’s been avoiding her, bad enough he’s lugging around a guilt complex the size of Indiana (or the size of a denim vest, really, it depends on your perspective), but to call her at the ridiculous time of (she pauses to look at her clock) eight a.m.?

That’s what you do to your mortal enemies. Not your platonic soulmate. Not someone you purport to be your best friend. Not Robin Buckley, who might murder you in your sleep for interrupting hers.

“Somebody better be dying,” she says, and then immediately cringes. “Wait, I don’t mean that, obviously I don’t mean that, please tell me nobody is actually dying.”

She hears a huff of laughter from down the phone line, and she pulls it away from her ear to stare at it for a second, like it might be trying to trick her. Steve hasn’t laughed in weeks. Nobody in Hawkins has really laughed much, but Steve hasn’t laughed at all, and she’s been genuinely worried about him because nobody should be that sad or that serious all the time, and especially not Steve Harrington.

“Nobody is dying, Rob,” he promises as she puts the receiver back to her ear. “Not as far as I know.” The last part sounds a little worried, like maybe somebody is actually dying and he just doesn’t know about it yet. This was not her intention.

“Good,” she says quickly. Then, “Then what the hell do you want and it better be good.” This time, she does mean exactly what she says. “Or I will beat you to death with your own bat,” she adds for good measure, and it makes Steve give that tiny little laugh again, which makes Robin feel like she’s won something. She preens a little, very glad that Steve isn’t actually here to witness it.

“So, this will sound really crazy,” Steve starts, which is never a good way to start anything in Hawkins. “But I figure crazy is kind of our deal, so you probably won’t ship me off to the nuthouse.”

Intrigued now, all thoughts of curling up and going back to sleep forgotten, Robin listens to this newest form of Hawkins’ Upside Down craziness. And yeah, it’s crazy, even for them, it’s totally nutso. Eddie is a ghost? Eleven psychically connected him to Steve? Steve can see him and talk to him?

Look, Robin was really sad when Eddie didn’t make it. She cried, and Robin tries really hard not to cry about much. She hates crying.

She didn’t get to know him well, but she felt, well, kind of a kinship with him. He was louder about the stuff that made him a freak, not afraid to shove it in people’s faces in a way Robin can’t even imagine, but they were both Hawkins High freaks in their own way. It wasn’t fair, or right, what happened to him. It saved her life, hers and Steve’s and Nancy’s, but it wasn’t okay.

But she didn’t take it as hard as Steve or Dustin did, and she can’t help but wonder if, maybe… Well, what if it’s just, like, wishful thinking on Steve’s part? What if he’s so deep in his own guilt that he’s imagining Eddie is there when he really isn’t?

It feels like an unfair thought even as it leaks into her brain, and Robin winces.

On the other end of the phone, Steve is saying, “I swear, I’m not crazy, Rob,” like maybe he can hear her.

(Robin has toyed with the idea that they can hear each other’s thoughts, sometimes, so in sync with each other that it’s almost scary. So it wouldn’t exactly be shocking if he could hear her doubting him and his sanity, and that makes her feel really horrible.)

“I know, dingus,” she says, because she does. Even if it’s not real, it’s not because Steve’s crazy. It’s because guilt can do all kinds of terrible things to people, and Steve’s guilt could power Hawkins Lab. “But…”

“The kids came to me, first,” Steve says, sounding grouchy now. “They had to convince me it was real. El looked for Eddie in her weird mindscape thing, and we all heard him talk through the radio.”

Unless Steve has been imagining full interactions with his gaggle of children, Robin has to admit that it does sound pretty convincing.

Which means Eddie is actually a ghost, and Steve is actually supernaturally superglued to him, and somehow, that’s almost worse because what is that going to do to Steve’s brain?

But.

Well, but Robin really likes that idea of Eddie being back, in a way. So that she can thank him for saving their lives, if nothing else. Sure, he went about it in the stupidest way possible, but with everything that happened…

It just seems like somebody dying was almost inevitable. Which sucks on an entirely other level, but all she can do is be grateful it wasn’t Steve. Steve Harrington, her best friend, the idiot who nearly gets himself killed every year like clockwork when something goes bad in this town. Steve Harrington, who would have thrown himself into Death’s arms if it means saving the rest of them, and Robin doesn’t like that they lost Eddie, but she can survive it.

She doesn’t think she could survive losing Steve.

Accepting this as best as she can, Robin takes a deep breath and asks the most important question. “Are you okay?”

There’s a long moment of crackly silence down the line, which in itself is worrying because even if he wasn’t okay, Steve would usually say he was, immediately. A habit, or something, because he doesn’t think he’s allowed not to be okay. But this time he’s thinking about it. And that could mean anything, really. Probably nothing good, even if she’s glad that she’ll get an honest answer out of him for once.

“I’m better than I was when he was just…dead. Gone,” he finally admits. “And Robin, I’m really sorry. I know I’ve been a shit friend lately.”

“Shut up,” she says, hoping the receiver doesn’t pick up on how tight her throat is, or the sniffle she can’t help. “It’s okay to not be okay all the time,” she tells him. Not for the first time. But maybe this time he’ll actually listen.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve sighs, but it sounds like there’s a tiny smile buried there, which makes something in her own chest loosen. “Listen, I need to ask you something, and it’s okay if you say no.”

Well, that doesn’t sound good. “Okay? Look, if this is about Vickie—”

“It’s not,” Steve assures her, in a tone that heavily implies, not this time, at least, because Steve has made his thoughts pretty well known about Robin’s (un)willingness to take chances that are too scary to actually take, and also Vickie is amazing and they’ve been getting closer, being volunteer buddies, but Robin might be having crushy thoughts about somebody else lately, and…

Anyway. Not the point.

“It’s actually…look, Eddie is going to be around a lot, obviously. For all I know, he already knows, to be honest, which I can’t do much about. But if he doesn’t, he probably will soon, and—”

“Oh.” Robin cottons on to what Steve is talking about. “Well.” Her cheeks warm, half embarrassment and half terror, and it’s stupid because Eddie is dead, who is he going to tell besides Steve, who already knows?

“I mean, I’m willing to speak in code for the rest of our lives, or…or however long he’s around, but…”

“No.” Another breath, and she digs her fingers into her thigh to stop them from trembling. “No, that would suck, I don’t want to do that and I definitely don’t want to ask you to do that.” Steve has had memory problems ever since his concussion (not his first concussion, she’s learned, just the first one she was actually around for), alongside the ringing he gets in his ear and the way his vision in one eye goes fuzzy sometimes. It wouldn’t be fair to ask him to try to remember some stupid code over something like this.

And, well. Steve obviously cares about Eddie. Even if she didn’t know it before today (and it was fairly fucking obvious), she’d know it now, when he was willing to tie himself to Eddie just so Eddie didn’t have to feel like he was alone and invisible.

“The guy is…dead,” Robin says, tripping over the word and cringing with it. “Who’s he gonna tell?” She tries to say it lightly, but Steve always sees and hears right through her.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Robin?” Steve demands, and Robin nods even though he can’t see her.

“Yeah,” she says. Wasn’t she just thinking about kinship and freakishness and wishing she could have gotten to know Eddie better? Well, fine.

Here’s her chance.

“Yeah,” she says again. “As long as you don’t think he’ll go all Poltergeist on my ass…it’s okay if you tell him.”

“He doesn’t seem like the judgmental type,” Steve says, and there’s that smile in his voice again.

“No, he doesn’t, does he?”

It will be okay. Robin wills herself to believe it, tries to imagine her world expanding just that tiny little bit. A world where two people know her for who she is, instead of just her one platonic soulmate.

The thought is as heady as it is terrifying.

*

Eddie finds Uncle Wayne packing when he gets to the hotel where his uncle’s been staying since their trailer got sucked into the hell dimension that killed him.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Okay, it’s not like it hasn’t been clear that Wayne isn’t doing great since Eddie died. Every time Eddie sees him, he’s angry or sad or both or something in between that’s even worse. He’s drinking more than he has in years, which isn’t good for him with the meds he’s on, and Eddie hates to see it. If leaving is what Wayne needs, Eddie will never begrudge him that. Honestly, man, he gets it.

But, Christ, he doesn’t want his uncle to leave. His uncle, who’s more a dad to him than Eddie’s old man ever was. His uncle, who Eddie loves more than he’s ever loved anyone in this godforsaken world, and the only person he’s never doubted loves him back.

It’s not like Eddie can’t cope without him. He’s already dead, so how much worse can it get, really? He doesn’t have a choice but to cope, because it’s not like he can self-destruct any more than this.

But he doesn’t want to. He likes having Wayne close enough that he can check in on him, make sure he’s eating three meals (they aren’t exactly square meals, but at least they’re something) and taking the medication for his heart and getting enough sleep (or at least a little).

“Uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, dropping to sit on the mattress as he watches his uncle shuffle around the room, tossing shit into a duffle bag. “I’m sorry.”

It’s not enough. Nothing he ever says could be enough, even if his uncle could hear him. That doesn’t make it not true, though. Eddie is sorry. If he could go back and do it all over again…

Well, he’s not actually sure what he could have done differently, but it probably would have started with not selling drugs, which Wayne always hated in the first place.

He would have been…maybe not nicer, but less self-obsessed anyway. He’d have told his uncle he loved him more, for sure, even if the words are hard to say sometimes.

He’d have been more honest, about a lot of things.

Wayne looks around the room and sighs heavily. He slings the bag over his shoulder, hesitates. Drops it to the ground. His fists are clenched, and he slides down the wall until he’s sitting on the ground, one leg drawn up and his face in his hands. Shoulders heaving.

Eddie has never, ever seen his uncle cry.

He gets off the bed and sits as close as he can without touching Wayne, because he can’t take the idea of phasing through him like a mirage. And he can’t do anything to actually help, but he can be here. Even if Wayne doesn’t know it, won’t ever know it. He can be here, for once in his useless life. Afterlife. Whatever. And if he cries alongside his uncle, well, there’s nobody around to witness it. Eddie’s secrets are safe.

Eventually, Wayne takes a deep, shuddering breath, swiping the wetness from his eyes and cheeks. He goes back to the bag, digging through it until he produces some notebooks from the bottom.

Familiar notebooks. Notebooks Eddie recognizes instantly and intimately.

Oh, fuck. Uncle Wayne.

He must have grabbed them when he got evicted from the trailer, before it could get sucked into the Upside Down. Probably grabbed whatever he could of Eddie’s that he knew Eddie wouldn’t want to live without. Eddie had no idea Wayne even knew those notebooks existed.

Wayne tucks them under his arm, grabs his keys, and leaves the hotel.

Eddie follows him, because what else can he do? Eventually he’ll be pulled back to Steve, but for now, trailing his uncle to see what he’s doing, how he’s coping, is all he’s got.

Wayne goes to the high school, trudging inside like it’s the last place he wants to be, which…fair. Kinda the last place Eddie wants to be either.

Not that it really resembles the high school he’s used to, Eddie thinks, glancing around at the volunteers. Medics in one corner, food in another, donation tables and booths set up everywhere else. Most of the people still look shell-shocked, even though it’s been weeks, and there are a lot less of them. Lots left right after the quake. Lots more left when the Upside Down particles started to fall and the sky went sunless and lightning-struck.

Wayne marches over to the first person he sees, and Eddie swallows when he sees that it’s Nancy fucking Wheeler. Because of course it is. (He wonders vaguely if Mike has mentioned to her about Eddie, but he doubts it. He thinks he knows her well enough to know that she would have been at Steve’s in seconds, poking and prodding and figuring shit out because that’s what she seems to do best.)

“’Scuse me,” Wayne says, and Nancy glances up. Blinks, and then her eyes go wide.

“Mr. Munson!” she says, and…huh. Eddie wouldn’t have thought Nancy knew his uncle. (He’s starting to suspect Nancy just knows everything.) “Hi! Is there, um. Is there something you need, or—”

“Lookin’ for someone,” Wayne says. “Hoping you could help.”

“I…oh.” Nancy nods like a bobblehead, and swallows, hugging the shirt she was folding to her chest. A couple tables over, Eddie notices Jonathan Byers glancing over at them, assessing the situation with wary eyes. “Of course. Who was it you—”

“Henderson,” Wayne says, and, oh. Eddie closes his eyes against the rush of understanding. And, yeah, gratitude. “Dustin Henderson. Was a friend of my boy. Think he’s a friend of your brother’s, too.”

“He is,” Nancy says softly. Her eyes go to the notebooks Wayne is clutching in a white-knuckled grip, and she’s not the smartest person in the senior class for nothing. Understanding lights her eyes, too. “I’d be happy to pass along anything you have for him, but if you want to give those to him yourself—”

“I do,” Wayne says, although it looks like it costs him.

Nancy nods again, tells him where to find Dustin.

Wayne leaves to deliver a piece of Eddie’s heart to the only person he knows cared for Eddie as much as he did.

Eddie tries to follow, wanting to see how Dustin reacts to being handed something like this. The stories Eddie wrote when the real world was too much to deal with, the writing he lost himself in when he couldn’t lose himself in drinking or drugs. He wants to see Dustin realize what he’s holding (and he doesn’t hate it as much as he thought he would, the idea of somebody reading those words, the fantasy worlds he built outside of his campaigns), and he wants to see if maybe the kid has something to offer Wayne that will help him, because Wayne obviously needs something, and Eddie doesn’t trust many people in this world but he trusts Henderson.

But he blinks, and in that split second, he feels the tug leading him back to where the universe seems to want him most — at Steve Harrington’s side.

Chapter Text

Eddie is quiet. Ever since he got back from seeing his uncle yesterday, he’s barely said a word to Steve, mostly staring off into the distance and chewing on his thumbnail.

Steve knows he doesn’t know Eddie all that well, really, but quiet seems out of character for him. Steve doesn’t push, assuming it’s none of his business, and if Eddie does want to talk, it’s not like he doesn’t know where to find Steve. He does try to make it obvious that he’s open to listening without actually saying so, but, well.

So Steve just does what he normally does when he doesn’t have anywhere else to be. He cooks a bunch of casseroles to pass around to the overworked Party parents so they have less to worry about, and he does a quick patrol of the gates to make sure nothing is seeping out of them yet that shouldn’t be, and he builds up the stockpile of weapons he’s been keeping in the den for if (or more likely when) they need them (because he’s learned that there’s no such thing as being overprepared for the Upside Down), and he tries hard not to give himself too much time to think.

“You ever take a break?” Eddie finally asks, late in the afternoon, watching Steve cleaning his own bat, making sure the nails are still sharp enough to do damage or if it’s time to make a new one. Steve is very fond of this bat, it’s saved his ass a few times, and he takes good care of it.

“Not like we’ll get much of a break from Vecna,” Steve says, shrugging.

“Jesus,” Eddie mutters, and drops down into a crouch in front of Steve, forcing him to meet those big, dark eyes. “Harrington. Slow down, huh? What good are you to anybody if you burn yourself out before the bad guys come?”

Steve’s hands still, and he lets his eyes fall closed. A weakness, but it’s just a second. Only long enough to recover from the way his chest just got squeezed in a vice grip, making it hard to breathe. “I won’t burn out,” he says once he’s sure his voice will come out steady, and he isn’t sure if he’s trying to convince himself or Eddie. “I can’t.”

“Yeah, pretty sure that’s not how that works,” Eddie says.

“It is for me.” It’s pure stubbornness that makes Steve say it, his hand clenching tightly around the bat.

“Steve, man, come on.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “What’s this really about?”

It’s about the fact that Steve can kill monsters, but he still loses more fights than he wins. It’s about the fact that everybody relies on him to be the babysitter, the protector. It’s about the fact that he’s not smart like the rest of them, doesn’t have anything to offer except this. Blood and muscle and grit, sheer determination.

It’s about the fact that last time, he failed to do his one job, which was to make sure everybody made it out, and Steve needs to make damn sure it doesn’t happen again.

He can’t say any of that to Eddie, though. Not when Eddie was the one he failed. Instead, he shrugs. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he says, and yeah, it’s absolutely a bluff but he’s willing to bet Eddie won’t call it. “I thought once you were able to talk, I’d never get you to shut up, but you’ve been moping around all day like somebody kicked a puppy in front of you or something.”

It’s mean of him, and Steve knows it. Eddie knows it too, judging by the way his eyes go all dark and flinty. “We aren’t talking about the dead guy,” he says, but he visibly backs off, standing and shoving his hands in his pockets, and Steve breathes a short sigh of relief.

“What you need,” Eddie says, a little darkly, “is a distraction.”

No sooner has he spoken the words than the doorbell rings. Steve stares at him. “I swear to God, Munson—”

“Hey, this isn’t my fault, I don’t even have functioning hands or vocal cords!”

“You had to go and say it,” Steve says. “You just couldn’t help yourself. If I get eaten by a monster because of you—”

“For fuck’s sake, Harrington, a monster isn’t gonna ring the damn bell.”

The bell in question rings a second time, and Steve stands and stomps out of the den and down the hallway to answer it.

He’s not exactly prepared for the sight of Will Byers standing on his doorstep, particularly without any of the other kids, and Steve has to take a second to reorganize his thoughts before he manages to invite the teen inside.

“What’s up?” he says, then adds, “Everything okay?” Because generally if one of the kids come looking for Steve, of all people, everything is not okay (Dustin is an exception but Dustin is weird and actually likes Steve for some reason). Also because Will looks pale and clammy and not all that great, chewing his lip and rubbing his hands on his khakis like they’re sweaty.

“Yeah, I’m…” Will hesitates. “Everything is good. No, you know. Upside Down stuff.”

“Okay,” Steve says slowly. “That’s good at least. You want something, a Coke or some lemonade?”

Will gives him a sickly little smile, sitting down on the very edge of a couch cushion like he’s afraid it’s going to eat him. Immediately his leg starts bouncing up and down. “A Coke would be great. Thanks.”

Steve goes to get him a Coke, passing Eddie on the way to the kitchen. At Eddie’s confused look, he can only offer a shrug of his own. He’s got no idea.

Eddie follows him back into the living room when he brings Will his Coke. When Steve settles into the uncomfortable chair across from the couch, Eddie opts to stay standing next to him. He’s watching Will with a worried expression.

Eddie never got to know Will when he was still alive, and Steve thinks that’s a damn shame. They would have gotten on like a house on fire, he’s pretty sure, although he can’t put his finger on exactly what it is that makes him think so. Maybe it’s the nerd thing – the way Will used to cling to D&D like it was a lifeline. Steve can see Eddie relating to that.

“So,” Steve says, when an eternity of silence has passed and Will is still fiddling with his can of Coke but not actually drinking it.

“I, um. I need some advice,” Will says, his voice croaky and higher than normal, sounding more like it did when he was thirteen than it has since puberty came for him.

Steve is not generally the go-to advice guy. In fact, Steve is usually the one everybody mocks as needing advice, all the time, always. Even Dustin rarely comes to Steve anymore for his sage wisdom, because he’s learned better.

“And you came here?” Eddie snorts, and Steve gives him a brief glare that Will, at least, doesn’t seem to notice.

“I mean, anything I can do to help, kid,” Steve says. “Um, is it—”

He means to ask if it’s okay that Eddie is there, if Will minds the ghost hearing about whatever it is that’s got him looking like he’s on his way to a firing squad, but he doesn’t get the chance.

“You’ve had a ton of girlfriends, right?” Will says, all at once, looking at Steve with desperation. “And you dated Nancy and everything, and I just. I need to know how you got over them?”

“How I…” Steve blinks.

“How do you make yourself fall out of love?” Will asks, and oh, shit, there are tears in his eyes, and Steve is not equipped for this of all questions.

“Don’t freeze up now, Harrington,” Eddie growls. “Your kid needs you.”

It is, somehow, exactly what Steve needs to hear.

“Look, Will.” Steve stands and crosses to the couch, sitting close enough to be hopefully supportive but far enough that Will still has a little distance if he needs it. “Let’s be honest, I’m not the best person to ask about relationships. Or, uh, healthy coping strategies.”

Will looks over at him, mouth trembling. “You’re the only person I can ask,” he whispers. “Everybody else…they’ll just ask too many questions, and I’m not…I can’t…if Mike found out I was asking, he might…”

Oh shit. Oh shit.

“This is about Mike?” Steve asks without thinking it through, and Will flushes, and then goes really pale, turning away to stare at the ground, chewing on his lip so hard it looks like he might chew right through it.

“Jesus, how are you so bad at this?” Eddie sighs. “Aren’t you supposed to be the child-whisperer or some shit? Steve. Steve,” he snaps, when Steve is caught in his own panic spiral because this is something he doesn’t know how to do. “He needs to know it’s okay. Tell him it’s okay.”

Steve’s heart is racing in a way it doesn’t even when he’s facing down monsters. “No, hey,” he manages to say, scooting two inches closer, desperately wanting to put an arm around Will but not sure if that’s something Will wants right now. He is absolutely full-on panicking, but like Eddie said, one of his kids needs him. He can’t, he can’t fuck this up. So he tries to do what Eddie told him to do. “I didn’t mean it like…that’s not a bad thing.”

Will scoffs. “Oh, really? So I’m not…not weak, not a…a fairy? A faggot? A freak?” He spits the last word out like poison. “My own dad left because—”

“Your dad left because he was an asshole,” Steve says, suddenly wishing he could take his spiked bat to Lonnie Byers, who never deserved a kid as great as Will. This, at least, is one thing he is absolutely sure of, and is absolutely sure is the right thing to say. “Your dad wasn’t worth the dirt on your shoe, you hear me?” Steve knows all about shitty dads. He’s basically an expert.

Will sniffs. “But it’s wrong, isn’t it? Everybody says—”

“No,” Steve and Eddie say together, and Steve shoots a grateful glance at Eddie, who’s folding himself to sit on the coffee table. Close enough to be there for Will, too, even if Will isn’t aware of it at the moment.

“You got this, Steve,” Eddie says quietly. “You know the right things to say. Just don’t overthink it. Be there for him, listen to him, tell him he’s not a freak, or…better, tell him all the best people are freaks and he’s in good company.” His smile is fierce when his eyes meet Steve’s.

“Will,” Steve starts, and takes a deep breath when Will tentatively looks over at him. “There’s nothing wrong with you, okay? Not one single damn thing, and anybody who says differently is a small-minded asshole. You are one of the best, most caring and compassionate and smart kids in the world. You’ve fought monsters and won. You’ve survived shit that would send those judgmental jerks screaming into the night, wetting themselves. You, Will Byers, are a certified badass. Being gay has nothing to do with it.” Will flinches at the word, and Steve reaches out to clap his shoulder, waiting until Will manages to look at him again before he says, “Eddie wants me to tell you that all the best people are freaks, and you’re in good company. And you know what? He’s totally right.”

Will swallows hard, his eyes spilling over no matter how many times he reaches up to wipe the tears away on the sleeve of his shirt. He doesn’t seem upset about the idea of Eddie being there, listening to this and offering his own thoughts, so that’s something, at least. “If that’s true and it isn’t wrong, then how come I’m the only one?” he asks in a small voice that breaks Steve’s heart. “How come I’m alone?”

“I can promise, I can absolutely promise you that’s not true,” Steve says, and he’s not even thinking about Robin in that moment. “Will…”

“Tell him about me,” Eddie says, his own eyes a little wild, big and scared, his hands clenched in his lap. “Tell him that I’m gay.”

Steve blinks at him, thrown. Doesn’t have much time to really think about it though, not when Will is next to him hurting this badly. “Eddie…Eddie is gay, for one,” he says, and Will blinks up at him, looking as startled as Steve feels. “And I’m, uh. I’m not gay, but I do…there have been guys I’ve…thought about,” Steve says, his face flushing with heat at the twin stares he can feel coming from two sides. It takes every single ounce of willpower he’s ever had to not look in Eddie’s direction. “If there’s a word for…liking both.”

“You—really?” Will says, his eyes big and hopeful for the first time since he appeared on Steve’s doorstep. “You’re not just saying that?”

Mutely, Steve shakes his head. He’s never acknowledged it, not really, not even to himself. He ignores it as easily as he ignores the problems with his parents, because what good would it do to think about? He focuses on girls because they’re easy and he likes them just as much and it means he doesn’t have to think about this. But this has always been there, in the back of his head, rearing up at weird moments like when the captain of the swim team took little freshman Steve Harrington under his wing, or when Marcus from bio gave him that really sweet smile in class after Steve snuck him the answer to a test, or when Eddie got all up in his space and called him big boy, or—

Anyway, Steve doesn’t acknowledge it, Steve is great at ignoring that it even exists, but Will is hurting. And Steve would do anything for these shitheads, including facing down things a lot scarier than anything the Upside Down could throw at him.

“Damn, Harrington,” Eddie says, quiet. “Hidden depths.” When Steve slides a glance at him, he’s smiling. It’s not any smile Steve has seen him wear before. It’s a little shocked and a lot soft, and his head is tilted like he’s seeing Steve in a way he never has before.

“There, um.” Steve clears his throat. “There are more of…of us, okay? Those aren’t mine to tell, but. You’re not alone. I promise. Friends don’t lie, right? The big Party rule? Well, I would never, ever lie to you, Will. Especially not about this.”

Will nods, still crying, and he leans into Steve, lets Steve wrap an arm around him for a long time. Eddie watches them with a watery smile of his own, and Steve wishes so fucking hard that he could pull him into the hug as well, because Eddie looks like he needs it as badly as Will.

Is this the first time he’s said it? Steve wonders. Did anybody else know about him, or was he like me and Will?

It’s weird, thinking about Eddie in both past and present tense. Steve’s gotta stop doing it, or he’s going to lose it. And anyway, it doesn’t really matter, in the end. They’re all in this together, now.

They’re not alone anymore.

“So,” Steve finally says. “Tell me about this…this boy you like.” He wrinkles his nose. “Mike Wheeler, really? I thought you had taste, but you could do way better, Byers.”

Will laughs, watery and broken, and punches Steve in the arm as he pulls away to bury his face in his hands.

*

After Will leaves, Steve looks wrecked, and not in a good way. He looks like somebody drained him and broke him down for parts, leaving nothing but a rusted out frame and some dangling wires.

Okay, the metaphor got away from Eddie a little there, but the point stands, Steve really doesn’t look good.

He hasn’t left the couch, for one thing, even though Will’s been gone for a half hour now, and he’s got his head in his hands, and he’s shaking, fine tremors twisting up his spine and down his arms. Eddie’s tried talking to him a couple times, but if Steve is aware of him, or anything outside his own headspace, he sure hasn’t acknowledged it. Eddie almost feels invisible all over again, and he doesn’t like it.

And, okay, he gets it, at least a little. No chance at least some of this isn’t about Steve coming out, because there’s a pit in Eddie’s stomach, too, and he thinks he’s had a lot more time to come to terms with being gay than Steve probably has about being bisexual, judging by how surprised he’d looked at himself even when he was saying it to Will.

If Eddie is dead and coming out is still this scary, even among…yeah, okay, even among friends, then how must Steve feel, knowing he has to actually live with it, simmering there like a toothache you can’t stop thinking about?

Plus, Eddie knows how much Steve cares about his kids, and a lot of this is probably the way he’s hurting for Will, who left here laughing, but has a long way to go before he’s really okay.

Eddie is so damn glad that Will at least knows now he has someone he can talk to. Two people, if you count Eddie. Eddie used to imagine coming out to his uncle, his friends like Gareth, who probably wouldn’t have cared. Used to imagine pretending like it was no big deal, just a small drop in his personal bucket of freakishness, but he never actually did it. He’s never been able to say the words out loud until now.

It’s worth it, to come out for the sake of a kid who’s like him. If overcoming his own demons helps Will Byers, it’s more than fucking worth it, and Eddie is pretty sure Steve feels the same.

It’s weird, though. Being out to Steve Harrington. Even if Steve obviously doesn’t care, doesn’t think it makes Eddie any more of a freak than usual, even if Steve has his own personal queer demons, it’s…weird. Eddie could have imagined ten million scenarios where he came out, and not one of them in any universe would have featured Steve Harrington.

Who is still looking like somebody just kicked his dog or something, and seriously, this has to stop.

Eddie stands resolutely, going over to the gigantic stereo system across the living room. Most of the music is a curated collection of what Eddie thinks of as parent music, nothing he’d be caught dead (ha) listening to if given any choice in the matter, but there are a couple cassettes that don’t fit, scattered across the top of the case, track lists written out in messy scrawl.

One is labeled “HAPPY MIXTAPE (stop moping, dingus)” and can only have come from Buckley. Eddie looks at the list of songs she put together for her best friend and snorts, not sure if he’s amused or horrified.

Either way, he unfortunately lacks substance with which to put any music, good or bad, on, so he heads back over to Steve. Takes a seat next to him on the couch, and wishes he could, like, nudge his shoulder or something. That’s a thing friends do, right?

Instead, all he has is his voice. But at least he has practice utilizing that. “Harrington,” he says, then, “Steve. Steve.”

Steve shudders a little, glancing up too quickly with wide eyes, like Eddie startled him.

(Given that Eddie is a ghost, that would be fair even if Steve hadn’t spent the last half hour deeply lost in his own head.)

“There he is,” Eddie says. “He lives!”

Steve blinks, then glowers at him. It’s absurd, how cute that glower is. Eddie can never let Steve know. “I’m fine,” Steve says, because of course he does. Steve wouldn’t be Steve if he wasn’t trying to convince people that he was fine when he obviously wasn’t.

“You damn well should be,” Eddie says. “What you did there, that was pretty fucking metal, Harrington.” He means it, really hopes Steve can tell he means it when Eddie meets his eyes.

Steve hesitates. “Yeah?” he finally says in a small voice that doesn’t fit the Steve Eddie is starting to know. “More than the demobat?”

“Way more than the demobat,” Eddie assures him, and Steve’s face goes a little red. He looks away like he’s embarrassed.

“I never, uh.” Steve swallows, then clears his throat. “I never really let myself think about it before. Even when…even when another friend came out to me, I never. I never put two and two together, you know? Like, I didn’t even realize it was a thing, that somebody could like both. Until a lot later, and then it was easier to just ignore it. Is that really stupid?”

Eddie snorts. “Hell no,” he says. “If I could ignore it, I would. Alas, no girls for Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, so it was way harder to pretend it wasn’t there. But I get the appeal.” He considers for a second, then adds, “Plus, like. You had other shit to worry about.”

Steve makes a sound that should be a laugh but definitely isn’t. “Guess you could say that. I never really had, like, a crisis over it or anything, even once I realized. With everything else, it didn’t seem like the end of the world, you know?”

Yeah, Eddie gets that too. Being gay kinda pales when pitted against psychic monsters and alternate realities and the end of the world. Too bad he didn’t have that kind of perspective sooner. “I get it,” is all he says.

“And…” Steve hesitates. “Well, and Robin is the coolest person I know, and she’s gay, so it can’t be a bad thing. You know?”

Eddie blinks at him. Blinks again. He is, admittedly, a little thunderstruck.

Steve is flushed. “She told me it was okay to tell you, if you didn’t already know. We talk about it sometimes, when she needs to have a crisis over a crush or yell about how hard it is to hide it from everybody. I’m the only person she’s told, so it. I think it gets to her, sometimes. But I didn’t want to have to start, like, speaking in code or something, just to keep it from you.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “So, now you know. There’s, um. Kind of a lot of us, apparently.”

In smalltown Hawkins, Indiana, of all places. Who fucking knew. Eddie never would have guessed, definitely wouldn’t have guessed it for this group of people, and he feels weirdly warm and fuzzy about it, considering he’s not even alive to really enjoy the novelty of having other gay or gay-adjacent friends. (But, God, he still feels everything just as strongly, just as acutely, as he ever did when he had a body and a heartbeat.) “Well.” He clears his throat. Then, because it’s all he can think to say, he says it again. “Well.” He swallows. “Tell, um. Tell Buckley thanks. For trusting me, and shit.”

Steve is smiling at him, just a little. “I will.”

Eddie clears his throat again, gets back to the matter at hand. “Come on.” He stands. “What you need – what we need – is a distraction.”

That adorable glare is back, Steve pushing his hair back with long fingers as he glowers up at Eddie. “That is literally what got us into this mess, why would you—”

“Okay, a, that’s totally unfair, and b, once does not a pattern make, young grasshopper.”

Steve stares at him blankly. “Young what?” he asks.

Eddie honestly does not know what to do with this guy. “You work in a video store and you’ve never seen The Karate Kid? Never mind, of course you haven’t. Whatever, point is…” He’s forgotten the point, actually. “Get up. Music. We need music, Harrington.” He crosses back over to the stereo and points an imperious finger at the HAPPY MIXTAPE.

Steve laughs, but he stands. “You’re not serious.”

“As a heart attack,” Eddie confirms. “Come on, put on Buckley’s Happy Mix, I gotta hear it. Besides, the situation calls for it, yeah?”

“Come on, Munson, even I know that mix is ridiculous,” Steve says, a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Pretty sure Robin made it as a joke.”

“No no no, it’s perfect!” Eddie puts on his most insistent face. “Come on, Harrington. Get out of your head for thirty seconds.”

Steve shakes his head, but he’s wandered closer now, and he picks up the tape with a resigned sigh. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he says. “Pretty sure this is not your normal crap music.”

“We’re going to have words about that statement later.” Eddie makes shooing motions towards the tape, and Steve finally puts it in and presses play.

There’s a second of that crackly silence he so loves from any good mix tape, and then…

Super trooper beams are gonna find me, but I won’t feel blue…’cause somewhere in the crowd there’s you…

Eddie laughs, delighted, immediately picking up with the lyrics, pointing at Steve as he sings, and Steve boggles at him.

“You,” said Steve over the boppy instrumentals and ridiculous lyrics. “You like ABBA.”

It would probably ruin the mood to tell Steve that ABBA was his mom’s favorite, that she used to play it endlessly on car rides when she would come to visit him, prodding Eddie until he joined her in impromptu singalongs, that those are the only good memories he has of her, so instead he just grins and winks. “Maybe I got a few hidden depths myself,” he says, and goes right back to singing into an imaginary microphone.

And Steve, almost in spite of himself, and definitely in spite of his eyerolls and crossed arms, gives in and joins him on the second verse, and they’re belting out the words to Super Trooper like it’s their job, like they’re singing to a crowd of thousands instead of just them in a too-fancy living room, and Eddie…

Eddie can’t remember the last time he was this happy.

Fuck, maybe Buckley was onto something. He gives a suspicious glance to the mix, but then just lets himself get swept along. It’s doing its job, exactly what he set out to do to drag Steve out of his epic mope, and that’s what matters. If it’s working on Eddie, too, well, he probably shouldn’t complain about it.

The song ends, but even before they can fall down laughing at each other, the opening beats of a new song are already starting up, drums and guitar and this is definitely dance music, Eddie is ninety percent sure it’s some crazy thing from that popular movie that came out a couple years back, and sure enough, he checks the track and it’s labeled Footloose, and…yeah.

Yeah.

Eddie backs into a clearer space of the room, already wiggling his hips, and Steve is laughing at him again even as Eddie beckons.

“Get over here, Harrington!” Eddie demands, and Steve shakes his head.

“Nope, no way,” he laughs. “You got this. Also, what the hell, man, were you abducted or something? Who are you? And what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m boogieing, man!”

“You’re doing something, that’s for sure,” Steve snorts, but he’s still smiling too hard for Eddie to take any offense.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, spins around and thrusts his hips and dances his way closer again. “I’m dead, I got no shame left,” he says, and he’s grinning so widely it feels like it might split his face, and nothing about this makes any sense. But Steve is starting to bop his head along to the music almost like he’s not even aware he’s doing it, and it’ll take no effort at all to get him moving, Eddie is sure of it. So he crowds in as close as he can while being sure they won’t accidentally touch (or, well, not touch as the case may be) and keeps moving to the crazy beat of the song until Steve can’t resist.

And then they’re both dancing to Kenny fucking Loggins, and they’re both really bad at it but it doesn’t even matter because they’re both laughing and moving and that awful look has left Steve’s eyes and Eddie feels almost not dead, and it’s ridiculous, it’s so dumb, but Buckley’s Happy Mix is one of the best things that’s happened to him since before he died.

She can never know.

The song ends and Steve collapses on his couch in a fit of giggles, actual giggles, and Eddie basically feels like he’s on top of the world, and when Steve meets his gaze again, his eyes are bright and shiny with happiness and it punches Eddie straight in the gut, whoof, and…

Well, shit. There’s that, apparently.