Steve Can’t Breathe Anymore. Not Around Eddie. Not When He Looks Like That, Completely At Ease, Cigarette

Hide Your Heart pt.4

Part four of the Steve Harrington has bad parents au. I would’ve posted this last night but I past out right after finishing the chapter in an daze of insomnia

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

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Steve had been up for hours, waiting for his parents to come back. Maybe he was right and they were never coming back. What if they had just packed up and taken off without a goodbye? It wouldn’t be the first time they’d done that, making excuses about flight times and scheduling errors. 

He decided to clean the kitchen, like he always did when he was stressed. It was three in the morning, he was standing on top of the counter to dust the overly complicated light fixture in the kitchen, when the front door banged open. He heard a shrill cackle and the sound of furniture being jostled around. They were drunk, of course they were fucking drunk. He was just about to hop down off the counter when his mother stumbled into the kitchen.

“Wha-h-what’re you doin’ on the cowter, Steven?” She snorted, falling against the table and slouching her head down to lay on it.

“Nothing, mother. You should get to bed.” He got down, taking her arm to guide her up the stairs. His father was passed out on the couch, he would have to keep his call with Eddie quiet.

“Oh, Stevie, you would’ve loved the dessert!”

 Steve’s stomach dropped, he tried to pay attention to her rambling but he couldn’t listen to her gush about the chocolate cake because his mother hadn’t called him Stevie since the first trip they took. He was 8 years old, she had wrapped him in her arms and whispered how much she would miss him and how it would be over before he knew it into his hair. She had held his hand until she had to get in the car and the nanny had to pull him back. She was losing consciousness, words slurring as she drifted and her head hit the pillow with a snore.

Steve sat a cup of water on her bedside, alongside tylenol for when she woke up, he pressed his lips to her forehead on his way out, “Goodnight, mother.” He whispered before closing the door.

He dragged a kitchen chair over to where the phone hung on the wall, slumping into it as he put in Eddie’s number. It wasn’t until he was listening to the faint click on the receiving end that he remembered his father snoring on the couch. It was too late to hang up, so he resigned himself to whispering and praying that his father didn’t wake up in a drunken stupor.

“Mh’ello?” Eddie’s voice mumbled sleepily.

Steve breathed out, a sigh of guilt, “Hi, I can call later if—”

“Stevie,” Eddie’s voice filled with warmth and Steve bit back a grin, there were no bittersweet memories that plagued his mind when Eddie said the name, “always up to talk to you, sweetheart.”

“Are you sure?” He whispered, already preparing to make himself hang up.

“I promise.” Eddie said it so sincerely, sounding genuinely happy that he called, who was Steve to argue?

“Ok,” It was so quiet, barely a word, Steve wasn’t sure if he spoke it or if it was his breath that formed the word of its own accord.

“Is there a reason we’re whispering?” Eddie asked, playing along anyway. Steve could hear the playful smirk in his voice. What he wouldn’t give to see it in person.

“My father’s asleep on the couch.” Steve told him.

Eddie hummed, “Trouble in paradise?”

“Try too drunk to make it through the front door.”

“Yeesh,” Eddie mumbled, “you gonna be okay over there?”

“I’ll be fine, s’long as he doesn’t wake up.”

He hears Eddie’s big, dramatic gasp, “Risking it for little ole me, Harrington?” And it sounds joking but Steve knows, he knows that Eddie knows it’s not a joke.

“The things I do for you,” he shoots back anyway, because he’s delusional. Because maybe he wishes it could be just a joke. Because he’ll take the humor when he can.

Eddie’s tone changes then, more concerned, “It’s almost one am, Stevie, you planning on sleeping tonight?”

“You know I can’t.” He sighs.

“You should at least try. It’ll be easier to get through the week if you’re not falling asleep at the wheel.”

“I don’t even know if they’re going to be here for a week.” He paused, falling quiet, “Is it messed up that I don’t want them to stay?”

He heard Eddie sigh, “I can’t pretend to know what that’s like but you’re allowed to feel however you want about them. You’re the one who has to live with this, that means you decide how you feel about them.”

“What if he’s right, though?” Steve mumbled. What if everything my father says about me is true and I’m a no good freeloader? 

“He’s not right about you.” Eddie told him, understanding immediately, speaking again when Steve started to protest, “He’s not right about you, Steve. I know you and I know you don’t deserve this. So you know what, live in his house and spend his money and do whatever the hell you want because if he can’t pretend to care about you then fuck him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“You’re crazy, you know?” Steve said because he wasn’t going to start tearing up again.

“So I’ve been told. You don’t get accused of devil worship and witchcraft for nothing, my love.”

“Can you witchcraft my routine back?” Steve asked around a yawn.

“Oh yeah, all you gotta do is go to sleep.”

Steve groaned, “No. I miss you.”

“See me in your dreams, sweetheart.”

 Steve rolled his eyes because he could feel the exaggerated wink in Eddie’s voice, “That was terrible. Like, astoundingly awful.”

“I’d say I miss you too but I’m not sure I miss the attitude. Your inner mean girl is surfacing, Stevie.”

“You’re horrible, I’m just trying to go to sleep and my own boyfriend is bullying me.” He muttered with no real conviction.

Eddie gasped, “I knew you were tired!”

“Shhhh, let me sleep.” He didn’t hang up though, just settled into the kitchen chair and propped himself up against the wall next to the phone.

“It’s almost like that’s what I was trying to do, weird.” The sound of blankets rustling drifted from the other end of the line and Steve guessed Eddie was getting back in bed.

“Can you—” Steve hesitated, “Will you keep talking? Just until I can sleep?” 

He hadn’t asked anyone this in a long time, not since his father had lectured him on independence and being a man. Maybe Eddie would finally see him as the loser he was, too much of a baby to handle one night alone.

 But Eddie just hummed, “Nerdy snoozefest or something interesting?”

I love him. Steve would tell him later but now wasn’t the time, “Whatever you want.”

“Anything? Even the newest campaign I’m helping Dustin plan?”

Steve pushed back a sigh and agreed, pulling his legs up onto the chair as Eddie started his ramble with a gleeful ‘You’ve been warned’.

He talked and talked about creatures and myths. He went on a whole tangent about how Dustin was dead set on adding some thing that sounded like some weird dessert Steve’s great aunt Marge used to bring to Christmas dinner, a gelatinous cube he called it. Steve couldn’t keep up if he tried, and he had tried but even though he surrounded himself with a whole gaggle of nerds their mile-a-minute words were still lost on him. So instead he closed his eyes and let Eddie’s voice wash over him until he felt himself nodding off.

When Steve woke up again he was still in the chair—thank God he’d grabbed one with arms or he would have been on the floor. The first thing he registered was the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window, so it was still nighttime. The second thing he noticed was the phone still wedged between his shoulder and ear, soft breathing so close he could almost feel it puffing through the speaker. He sat up, grabbing the phone and popping his neck, only to wince at the sharp pain that shot through his spine. The wooden back of the chair dug into his own back.

“Eds?” He whispered, voice strained.

“Mh-wha?” Eddie’s disoriented mumbling would never not bring a smile to Steve’s face.

“You fell asleep, we both did.”

“Oh. What time is it?”

Steve craned his neck to check the clock, “Two a.m.” 

Eddie yawned and then groaned, “Way too early to be awake.”

Steve agreed, “I’m going to hang up and go to bed, okay? Remind me to never sleep upright again.” 

“Okay. Night, babe.” Eddie whispered, “I love you.” He added, like it was the easiest thing to say in the world.

Steve realized it was when he said it back, feeling a soft smile spread across his face, “I love you too.”

He was about to hang up, hand already reaching for the wall, when a shadow stumbled into the room. 

“Father—” He stood lightning fast, dropping the phone and feeling the cord stretch before coiling back together.

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Fun fact: I Struggled writing their call because I had No Ideas. You can probably tell but I Can Not be bothered to rewrite it, it’s mostly filler anyway

What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Prompt from @devious-kitten

Steve had a mild interest in DnD as a freshmen because of a cousin or something. The interest was killed by Eddie being mean since Steve is a jock. Post vecna Eddie finds dust covered DnD handbook Steve explains and Eddie faces a still hurt Steve as a results of his biases

((Half written fic, half rambling about how it would go down. Apologies for the formatting. Also I added more angst than the prompt called for hehe))

Steve has always loved sports. This is a well-known fact. He's played on some sort of sports team from the time he was old enough for his parents to be able to sign him up.

A lesser-known fact is that Steve loves fantasy. Or, at least, he used to. On the playground in elementary school, Steve could often be found playing knights and dragons, and it was anyone's guess if he would be a knight or a dragon on any particular day.

The summer between middle and high school, Steve spent with his grandparents from his mother's side, on the farm they'd retired on in Michigan. A month long stay that he'd shared with his cousins, Amber, Robert, and Christopher. Amber and Robert are twins, four years younger than Steve, and Christopher was two years older and infinitely cooler than anyone else Steve knew.

Christopher was on the varsity basketball team at his high school when he was just a sophomore, captain of the JV football team, president of the chess club, and in a games club.

Christopher was everything Steve wanted to be now that he was going to be in high school. Minus the chess club because

It was during that summer, Steve got to indulge in playing make believe for another summer with his younger cousins, without the judgement of people (his father and peers) who thought he was too old for such things. He also got to learn about make believe for older kids, because Christopher played a game called Dungeons and Dragons with his game club the last month of school before summer break and spent many evenings going over what had happened with Steve as a captive audience.

"I wish I'd brought the books," Christopher had whispered to him one night from the bed, peaking over to look down at Steve in his sleeping bag on the floor, "we could have played."

Steve wishes he'd brought the books, too.

At the end of July, Christopher, Amber, and Robert's parents show up to pick them up, five days before Steve's scheduled flight to Indianapolis. It's a sad goodbye because one summer a year isn't enough with his cousins but they live in Washington. Steve's always jealous their parents drive all the way to pick them up, but a little proud he gets to brag about how he's flown alone since he was seven. No one else in his class can brag about that.

His mom picks him up in Indianapolis and they go back to school shopping while there.

A week later, Steve receives a package from Christopher. Inside Steve finds Advanced Dungeons and Dragons books, three of them, and even though Christopher said nothing about advanced, he's sure he can manage. On the inside cover of the players handbook, Christopher has written:

Hey Steve, I think you'd rock playing a dwarf paladin. Let's play next summer? Christopher 1981

He spends the last three weeks of summer vacation reading the player handbook cover to cover and making a character. It's slow going, because letters don't stay where they're supposed to be on the page (that's a problem he's had his whole life, so he's not surprised but he is determined), and he's never been good at math, so getting the stats down on paper isn't easy. He can't decide what he wants to play, so he makes two characters; an elf magic-user and, of course, a dwarf paladin.

(He's a little disappointed you can't be a dragon.)

Steve's never been one to dread the first day of school, but he's never actually looked forward to it, either. It's just been another day.

Until today.

Today is his first day as a high schooler. And the only people who go to the first day are Freshman, except the upper classman that have volunteered to man the booths for school activities for the last hour of the day. It's supposed to help the Freshman get the lay of the land without being overwhelming and Steve's excited for it. He needs to see if Hawkins High has a games club like Christopher's school does.

Here Steve is, that last hour of school. He's already been to the basketball booth, promising to sign up as soon as the season started, and the swim booth because he's got a pool at his house and has been swimming for as long as he can remember and knows he enjoys it. He also stops by the football booth even though he's never played, or cared much, for it. (Maybe he's trying to emulate Christopher, sue him.). So, the final thing is to see if Hawkins High offers a chess club and a game club.

Steve is delighted to see that, though there is no games club, there is a Dungeons and Dragons club! That delight wavers because of the kid manning the booth. His hair is curly and falls just below his ears, with big brown eyes. Steve hates to think it, but he'd be cute if he didn't look like he wanted to stab Steve.

"Yeah, no, keep walking," says the boy, pulling the flier with meeting information on it out from under Steve's hand, where he'd been attempting to read it.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed in confusion. "I was reading that."

"And I said no. Jocks don't play Dungeons and Dragons."

"I could," Steve says, offended. He squints at the name tag sticker slapped diagonally across the way too big jean vest this guy's wearing. E-d-d-i-e. Eddie.

"Have you ever played?"

"Well... no, but-"

"No buts. Mitch let a jock join last year and that was a nightmare. He could barely read the rule book. And with how you were squinting down at the flier, and then my name tag, you're not going to be much better."

Jokes on Eddie, Steve's already read the rule book. Even if it was slowly. "I can read just fine."

"Can you math, then? What's eight plus seven?"

"What?"

"Simple addition. Eight plus seven. What is it?"

Steve knows simple addition. This is fine. It doesn't matter than he's been put on the spot, and that math is hard for the same reason as reading. He can do this. His hand twitches with wanting to pull it up and use it to keep track. He's faster at math when he can do that, but this jerk is mean mugging him and he just knows if he moves his hand, this guy will mock him the rest of the school year.

Eight plus seven. Ok. Make it easier, get to ten. It takes adding two to the eight to get ten. Ok. Take that two away from the seven now. That makes... five! Ok. Ten plus five is-

"Dude, it's fifteen," Eddie snaps.

"I knew that!"

Scoff. "Right. How about seventeen plus six."

Steve can feel his face turning red with embarrassment but he's not going to let this jackass be right. Round up. It takes three to get seventeen to twenty, so take three away from the six-

"23. Point proven. Go. Away. Go play your jock games and leave me- us alone."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, or maybe plead, that he can do this, and that, more importantly, he wants to do this, but laughter cuts through the air and for the first time, Steve notices the audience that has gathered. Three people are laughing at him, and his inability to do mental math, and it makes Steve snap his jaw shut and swallow.

"Mental math isn't that hard, Steve," one of them, Brant, says, as he elbows the guy next to him.

"Thank you!" Eddie says, "that's what I'm saying."

"Whatever, man, like I'd want to play make believe at this age anyway," Steve mutters and rushes away.

If, two weeks later, Steve watches Kyle trip who he now knows is Eddie 'The Freak' Munson in the bathroom, and drag him into a stall for a swirly, well, no he didn't. He briefly thinks of saying something to stop Kyle, but shoves the words down and instead turns on heel and leaves that bathroom just as the sound of flushing and Eddie yelling start. The thick bathroom door does a good job of muffling the noise and if Steve feels any guilt about that, he shoves that down, too.

Besides, Kyle's the captain of the basketball team and if Steve wants a chance to be on that team, he can't stay anything. It's a well-known fact that Steve likes sports, after all. He's going to stick to that. Screw Eddie Munson and his Dungeons and Dragons club.

Steve will get to play Dungeons and Dragons with Christopher next summer.

Except, halfway through the school year, Steve and his parents quickly board a plane bound for Washington. Turns out being as perfect as Christopher was is hard. Overwhelming.

They arrive the day before the funeral, and fly out right after it. Steve barely has time to mourn before they're shuffling him back to school that Monday.

Christopher died, and with him, so does Steve's desire to be just like him. He quits the football team. He keeps basketball because he does like it, even without Christopher's influence. He can't bring himself to get rid of the Dungeons and Dragons books, but he can't look at them, either. They end up in the downstairs hall closet, forgotten on the shelf.

So, years later, after rising to the top of the food chain (no one was ever going to embarrass him like Eddie Munson had again) and then falling to the bottom (who cares about high school popularity when interdimensional monsters exist) and of course, the years of fighting against said interdimensional monsters before ending it all in spring of '86, Steve finds himself, unwillingly, agreeing to host Hellfire since the school banned the club following the events of spring break.

Damn Dustin Henderson. Steve usually has the backbone to say no but Dustin had to play up 'getting a chance to finally just be kids' and fuck, how was Steve going to say no to that? Despite how quickly his own desire to be a freshman playing Dungeons and Dragon had been squashed, he can't be the one to ruin this for them.

"Thanks for hosting, man," Eddie says when Steve lets him in. He's an hour early but had asked if that was okay. Apparently the dungeon master has a lot of prep to do? Not that Steve would know.

"Sure," Steve says, dismissively, because while Eddie and he went through hell together, and Steve carried his sorry ass out of the Upside Down, Steve can't quite let his guard down around him.

It's funny. In the Upside Down, Eddie had made a point to tell him he's changed, is a 'good dude' now. So, what's funny is how much Eddie is exactly the same person he was five years ago. He was an ass to Steve five years ago, and as far as Steve is concerned, was also an ass to Lucas for wanting to play basketball just this year.

He swears to God, if he hears one negative thing about Lucas tonight, he's punching Eddie unconscious, no matter what the rest of Hellfire will do or say about it.

Eddie's been in his dining room for maybe five minutes before he finds Steve in the living room. Steve's got a movie playing but he couldn't tell you which one. He's not really watching it.

"Do you got a table cloth for that big table? Jeff's got a set of metal dice and I'd feel like a real ass if we scratched it on accident."

Steve takes a deep breath before answering. He hates that Eddie is considerate like this, has been since spring break if Steve's being honest, but he doesn't want to see Eddie's good qualities. So, he waves in the direction of the closet. "Yeah. There should be some in the hall closet there. Help yourself."

"Thanks."

He twists on the couch to watch Eddie cross the room to the closet door, listens as the door creaks opens, hears the quiet, pleased noise Eddie lets out when his eyes land on the stack of table clothes. Steve continues to watch as Eddie just grabs the whole stack and yanks them off the top shelf.

Which means his watching as the stack of non-fabric objects, which must have been half atop the table clothes, also tumble out of the closet, bouncing off various parts of Eddie. It's a bunch of miscellaneous items. However, Steve realizes with horror, the book that bounces off Eddie's head is his copy of the Monster Manual. Eddie has stepped back in surprise (and possibly pain), so the Dungeon Master Guide and the Players Handbook bounce off his torso and leg before landing on the ground.

"Fuck," Eddie curses, before he stares down at what just assaulted him. Steve just stares at Eddie, watching as he slowly comes to comprehend what he's seeing. He watches as Eddie bends down and grabs the Player Handbook, the last thing to fall, from a top the pile. "What the-"

Steve stands, suddenly defensive, but doesn't actually say anything or move closer. He just watches as Eddie examines the book, flipping it from front to back in his hand like the title will change if he does that enough times.

Then, Eddie turns to him, bewildered. "Present for one of the kids? Thought they all had their own copies."

"No."

Eddie flips the book open. Reads the words written in there so many years ago. "Who's Christopher? Wait. 1981? You were playing D&D in 1981?"

"None of your business, and no," Steve says, now kicking into action, stomping up to Eddie and snatching the book from his hands.

Eddie hold his hands up in defense before his eyes turn mischievous. The same glint in them now that was there when Eddie'd leaned into this space in the RV and called him big boy. "Are you lying to me, Stevie? You've played before, haven't you?"

It makes Steve's blood boil. "No. I haven't played!"

"Alright. You could now, you know," Eddie says. And it's the way he says it, all nonchalant and like he's trying to be coy about it- it tips something over inside Steve. A bottle that held his humiliation and hurt from all those years ago.

"Oh, now I'm good enough for D&D? Now I can join? Aren't I too much of a jock for you!?"

"Whoa, what's with the hostility-"

"What's eight plus seven, Eddie!?" Steve snaps. His memory might be shit these days, with all the concussions, but the unfortunate part about Steve is that he always seems to remember the bad. And he remembers Freshman First Day like yesterday. "No? How about seventeen plus six? Come on, mental math isn't hard. Or don't you remember? I'm just a stupid jock too slow on the uptake, or no, what was it you said? It'll be a nightmare to play with me, 'cause I might be barely able to read the rules?"

He watches as Eddie's face morphs from confusion, to understanding and horror. "Holy shit, Steve. That was you- you wanted to join Hellfire-"

"Yeah, and you made it pretty fuckin' clear I didn't belong in it."

"I'm sorry man. I shouldn't have- if I'd known you, I never would have-"

"That's the problem, Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving the book in front of him. "You didn't know me. You looked at me and decided for me that I was going to be a jock and nothing else and then humiliated me in front of other people! You didn't even bother to try to know me. I spent three weeks reading this stupid book cover to cover because I knew I was shit at reading and I still wanted to try anyway."

He sees Eddie puffing up in anger. "Well, I wasn't exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even!"

"Yeah, because I was a dumb, hurt kid who decided that it was better to hurt than be hurt. As if you weren't exactly the same that day, lashing out at me first, at my reading ability, and mocking me for not being quick at math. Fuck you, Munson!" Steve walks away, not hearing anything Eddie shouts after him as he sprints up the stairs and shuts himself in his room.

Steve knows he was a dick in high school, and it's not Eddie's fault he was a dick. Steve made choices he's not proud of and no one forced those choice on him. But Eddie doesn't get to throw that back in his face. Not when Eddie made him feel humiliated and stupid on the first goddamn day of high school, long before Steve became mean himself.

Steve hadn’t thought his nightmares could get any worse than they already were. They were already such a nasty cocktail of the jaws of Demogorgons, both big and small, the Russians, the beatings and the horrifying sounds of the kids screaming, of Robins voice begging. They would blend together so horrendously that he would often wake himself up, screaming.

He hadn’t thought it could get worse than that.

He was wrong.

Every night, without fail, Eddie died. It didn’t matter how many times he tried to repeat the miracle he’d pulled off, no matter how often he repeated his same actions, Eddie would always die. He’d always be left, eyes wide open, blank. Dustin would always beg Steve to bring him back.

Steve would always wake up sobbing.

And there was nothing he could do. He'd tried taking sleeping pills, tried meditation, tried to tire himself out before bed in the hopes that he'd be too exhausted to dream. Yet, still, every night, without fail...

It continued for weeks. Steve was getting less and less sleep each night. He’d started waking himself up earlier, and earlier, trying desperately to cut his nightmares short. To go one night without seeing Eddies cold and lifeless eyes.

One night, Steve wakes up early. He wakes up before the nightmare ends. He wakes up before Eddie dies, once again. He wakes up.

He’s as confused as he always is, disorientated and struggling to grasp reality.

But he woke up. Eddie hadn’t died. He isn’t dead. Steve knows it, can feel it in his bones.

He forces himself up, doesn’t bother grabbing a top or changing out of his pj bottoms or putting on slippers. He grabs his car keys and starts driving.

He gets to the little house the Munsons now owned, thanks to the hush money. He didn’t bother knocking on the door, carefully hopping around the bushes to knock on the bedroom window.

“What the fuck is-” Eddie hisses, but shuts up when he pokes his head out. “Steve? What is it, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Can… can I just…” Steve wipes at his face, hating how wet his cheeks are. He has to bite back a sob. "Please."

“What? What do you need?”

Steve grabs Eddies hand, pulling his arm out the window a little more, so he can press his fingers to the inside of his wrist. It takes a moment for him to find his pulse but, once he does, he just feels relief.

“Oh… oh, Stevie…” Eddie whispers. “Come on, get in here.”

“I’m ok,” he chokes out. “I’m ok now, don’t worry, I can-”

“No, you can’t. Get in here. I’m not asking, Steve, I will come out there and drag you in if I have to.”

It takes a moment for Steve to crawl in through the window, mostly because they’re both trying to keep him from knocking anything off the desk, making sure he doesn’t break anything.

“Shit, you’re not even wearing socks… come on, come here.”

Eddie grabs his wrist, pulling him over to the bed, gently pushing him down.

“Where will you sleep?”

“Here, dumbass. Move over.”

Eddie gently pushes him to the side, crawling into bed so he’s behind him, tugging him close so he can spoon him. He wraps his arms around Steve tight, almost painfully. Tight enough that Steve sighs, finally relaxing.

“I’ve got you,” Edide whispers. He presses his forehead to Steves shoulder. “And I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m ok. You’re ok. We’re both ok. We’re safe here.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I’m staying right here.”

"You'll still be here when I wake up?"

"Always."

I will never be able to think otherwise!

every time totk mentions “sky islands,” i can only think of skypiea

Blankie

Steve has a blankie. It's his blankie. Worn and threadbare over the years. His grandmother had sown it for him, simple and plain.

But Steve loved it. Could never be without it.

"I threw it out,"

Steve had been gone the weekend. Checking the places over in Indianapolis that they could maybe afford. He'd been gone two days. Two fucking days.

"You what."

His mother doesn't even look up at him. She never has actually, paid him much attention.

"God Steven, don't make me repeat myself. I threw it out. With a bunch of your baby things. It was old and ratty. I should have thrown it out sooner really-

Steve doesn't listen, he's out the door before she's finished her sentence.

"Steven!"

He can see them, the boxes, chucked out by the mailbox. For anyone to just pick up. He tears open the first one, doesn't care that he's throwing baby toys across the yard.

It's at the bottom. Torn in half.

He walks back to the house.

His mother looks at him with disgust. He can tell. It's the same way she always looks at him when he's acting o u t.

Steve's lips twist into a shadow of his former self and he walks past her. He smashes the number he now knows by heart into the receiver.

It rings once before a click "I'm coming. Now. Forever."

And then he hangs up.

"Steven?"

She doesn't sound so sure now, he voice quivers slightly as he tears through the house, grabbing what little he actually has left there.

Then he makes a last turn around the kitchen, his mother hovering as he grabs the bread, Dustin's favourite cereal and the expensive chocolates from his dad that Eddie loves stealing.

"Steven it's just a blanket what are you doing?"

Steve whirls on his mother.

"Once a month, on the third Tuesday, your husband goes to a bar just out of town and fucks the youngest thing he can find. Boy or girl, he doesn't really care. It's not just a blanket it's the only proof I have that I was loved, goodbye Mother,"

And as he slams the front door he doesn't look back.

"Steven."

He doesn't pause.

Eddie's van is turning the corner.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Steve clenches that blanket to his chest.

"It's worth shit,"

Part 2

Why do I have to work to live?

Why can’t I just exist?

Even if I have fun at my job, there is not enough time for me in the end. And if there is enough time, there won’t be enough money.

The “That’s immoral you shouldn’t write that, we need to get that taken down” discourse on tiktok right now is PISSING ME OFFF

Wdym you want censorship for a literal ARCHIVE are you fucking stupid

Ao3 was literally founded to preserve works that were largely getting taken down due to censorship

Censorship is the opposite of what Archive of Our Own stands for

The TAGS and WARNINGS are there for a REASON. Use them and stop complaining

The universal rule—don’t like, don’t read

It’s THAT simple

callout post for "work"

"work" has done many terrible things such as

make my friend go there

make my wife go there

please spread this around we can't let "work" keep getting away with this

Throwback thursday to when I was like 12 and I was putting out new writing DAILY...... Like entire Chapters of my then-current wips just, over an afternoon. What the fuck was I on

Eddie: Hey, Robin, you know that fae folklore where some fairies have to count salt when it's spilled in front of them?

Robin: Yeesss, where are you going with this, buddy?

Eddie: Well, if Steve trips in front of a fairy, do you think it would have to count his moles?

Robin: I don't know, depends on if his moles taste like salt or not:

Steve: *walking back into the living room* Okay, got the popcorn! I might have - EDDIE!

Eddie had gotten up, grabbed Steve’s face, and licked the moles on his cheek.

Eddie: *gasps* Robin! It tastes like salt. . .AND butter!

Steve: *blushing* Yeah, that's because I ate a couple of pieces. Jesus.

Eddie: *thinking about counting Steve’s moles* I wish I was a fairy.

Steve: Dude! We do NOT like to be called that!

Eddie gaped at him the rest of the night, trying to figure out if he was a mythical creature or not when actually Steve has yet to tell Eddie he's bisexual.