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Steve did everything he could, but it wasn’t enough. He literally resuscitated Eddie right there in the landscape of Hell known as the Upsidedown. The moment he felt a pulse he hauled Eddie over his shoulder, ignoring the sticky warmth of the metal head’s blood seeping into his clothes and skin,and dragged the boy to safety. But it was all for nothing.
When they got back and Eddie’s heart had stopped once more, Steve had tried CPR… again. He kept going as the boy’s ribs broke. He continued as his own bites bled from the forceful pumping motion. He didn’t stop even as Eddie's lips turned blue and his skin turned cold. He persevered even as his arms shook at the effort, and tears had completely blurred his vision. He only stopped when he was physically pried off of Eddie. He screamed and kicked weakly as the person held him back. “No!! I have to- No stop!! Eddie!!!”
“He’s gone, you did the best you could.” Steve only stopped when he didn’t recognize the gruff teary voice from behind him, strong arms around his chest. He looked to see Eddie’s uncle Wayne, tears streaming down his face as he stared at his boy, still holding onto Steve who finally went limp, sobs overtaking his already trembling body..
Eddie was officially gone.
—-
Steve was not only distraught, but heartbroken. He knows he doesn’t have the right, they weren’t an item. Steve didn’t even know he could like a man in that way until Eddie came along. And maybe that was why he cried every night for Eddie, not only because he missed him, but because just the mere presence of the boy opened something in Steve that he couldn’t close up again. He couldn’t talk to Eddie about it, he couldn't confess his feelings. He was stuck with his heart feeling heavy and yet hollow at the same time.
He knows logically that he could talk to Robin, she would understand. But, Steve doesn’t understand his feelings and he didn’t want to rope her into something that can never be. Even with this new revelation about his feelings, and who, or which genders he can feel them for, it didn’t matter. The one person he could actually see himself with, even in theory, other than Nancy years ago, was gone. He didn’t do enough to save Eddie, so his grief and his crisis of sexuality was his own burden to deal with.
He hadn’t left the house since he was dropped off, his bat bites slowly and painfully healing. His house was one of the lucky ones, it didn’t get damaged in the earthquakes or when the ground literally split apart. It had been about a week, maybe two. He lost track of time. The whole town basically shut down for repairs, while others simply packed up and left. Good call.
Right now, like almost everyday since they got back to the… Rightsideup, he found himself sobbing. He felt like the biggest drama queen in the world, Eddie and him hadn’t gotten that close. They only knew each other for a short time. Yet, it felt like Eddie had a crushing grip on his heart, even in death. Especially in death.
Steve was crying so hard he didn’t hear a car pull up in the driveway. He didn’t hear the front door opening. He didn’t hear heavy confident steps coming up the stairs. But he did hear his bedroom door open. He sat up quickly, hand instantly reaching for his bat like it was second nature. It kinda was at that point. “Steven.” His hand froze and he looked up from where he was half sitting half lying on the bed, face puffy and red, nose stuffed, eyes still teary.
“Dad?” His parents weren't supposed to be home for another few weeks. “What are you doing here?” he asked in a few hiccups, trying to pull himself together. His dad was not supposed to see him like this.
“This is my house.” His tone was no nonsense and harsh.
“I-I know, but you weren’t supp-”
“It’s my house Steven and I can be in it anytime I choose!”
“S-sorry, I just didn’t expect-”
“We heard about the earthquake.” His mother said as she too appeared in the doorway of his room before heading to her and his father’s room, without even saying hello or I missed you to her son.
“Oh.” He said, sniffling, trying to dry his eyes, but the tears just wouldn’t stop.
“What on earth are you crying about? I didn’t raise a crybaby for a son!” His father said in such a stern tone it was almost like he was shouting, even if his voice stayed unnervingly even.
“I-I lost a friend in- in the earthquake.” He whispered. The tears seemed to double, and the sounds of his crying were getting harder to conceal.
“Who?” There was no empathy in the question, there wasn’t even sympathy.
He had to answer, even if he didn’t want to, his father asked a question. “Eddie.” Just saying his name felt like an icepick to his already fragmented heart.
“Musnon?” His question was laced with low anger.
“Yeah.”
“He was a murderer Steven!”
“No he wasn’t!” Steve said, sitting completely upright. “He was innocent!!”
“Even if that is true-”
“It is.” His father gave him a seething glare for interrupting him. It made Steve want to shrink back, but Eddie’s honor was on the line.
“Even if he was innocent,” Richard continued, “he was still a Fag.”
“Don’t you dare call him that!!” Steve said, standing up, his hands shaking by his sides. Clothes wrinkled and bandages rubbing painfully against his partially healed bites.
“I’m glad he’s dead so he can’t corrupt you.” His father stated like it was nothing. Like he was saying something as simple as he was glad the rain had gone so the sun could come out.
“He was my friend!!” Steve cried both in his words and as new tears raced the old down his face. I wish he had been more.
The man walked briskly toward Steve. “You are my son!! You cannot be friends with a Fag!!”
“Stop calling him that!!” Steve said, trying to size up his dad, but every time he looked into the man’s furious eyes, he felt like a small kid.
“Why?! Are you a Fag too Steven?!” His father asked, shouting in his face.
Steve doesn’t know why he said it, his emotions are so unpredictable since, well since Eddie, that he’s not even sure he has control over them anymore. “And what if I am?”
He didn’t even get a warning before his father grabbed him by the collar of… of Eddie’s vest. He hadn’t taken it off, other than to shower and rebandage since returning home. His father obviously didn’t care enough to even wonder why there was blood all over it and whether it was his son’s, before using it to shove him against the wall. “I will not have a Faggot for a son!!” He screamed before he punched Steve in the face. He heard and felt the crack of his nose. He also smelled, tasted, and felt the blood rundown over his lips and into his mouth. He’s gotten used to the metallic taste by now.
For a moment Steve contemplated not fighting back. If he let his dad beat him, if he let his dad go too far, then he could kill him, especially with the partly healed injuries hidden under his shirt. Would that be so bad? He asked himself. He wouldn’t have to live in an empty house anymore. He wouldn’t have to deal with the Upsidedown if something happens again. He wouldn’t have to be a Harrington anymore. Best of all, he would get to see Eddie again.
Another two hits came, one to his stomach. He felt the stitches break. And another to his temple, making the other side of his head crash into the wall. The world started tilting, but as his brain spun, it seemed to land on one thought, like a pointer slowly coming to a stop on a wheel. The kid’s. He couldn’t leave them, especially if they have to deal with the Upside Down again. He has to protect them, not only for them, but also for Eddie. They were his lost sheep.
As he started slipping down the wall he kicked his leg out, catching his father’s shin. The man grunted in pain, “You little shit!!” His father wound up a kick, but Steve threw himself to the side with a grunt, crawling away. He used his wardrobe to pull himself up as his dad caught his balance from the failed kick. He grabbed his keys, which were on top of said wardrobe, hunched over as he struggled to run out of his room. “Come back here Steven!!!”
Steve was already braving the stairs, one arm around his bleeding stomach, holding tight to his keys, the other hand had a death grip on the banister as he practically stumbled and tripped down the flight. He ran as fast as he could out the door, slamming it behind him without looking back. He got into the car, and started it up before he gave the adrenaline time to wear off.
Steve started to drive, before he realized he had no idea where to go. But he’s aware enough to realize as soon as the adrenaline wears off, he will be too out of it and in pain to drive. Not that he should be now, but, oh well, too late. He pulls over, trying to think, though it’s hard. There’s no way he was bothering any of the kids with this. They were all so young, and had enough horrors in their lives, not to mention that they too were grieving. He could go to Robin’s, but her parents would freak and take him to the hospital. Hopper had just got back from his torturous ordeal, and Steve was not going to ruin the first semi peace the man has had in over a year. He looks down at the red covered vest, blood soaking the bandages and shirt, staining the vest even more.
Eddie
He starts driving without realizing it, Eddie the only thing on his mind. He starts to get really woozy, exhaustion pulling for his attention. He pulled into the trailer park, realizing he’s at Eddie’s. Well, the new trailer bought by the government, that Eddie would have now lived in. He looks at the lights in the window. He didn’t want to bother Wayne. He just lost his nephew, practically his son. It would be so selfish to rope him into his problems.
Steve was getting so tired. One night sleeping in the car wouldn’t be the worst, right? He can drive back home tomorrow, in the hopes his parents will be off on their next trip. They usually don't stay more than a few days in a row anyhow. Before he could fully make his decision he passed out on the steering wheel, jerking back up when his chin accidentally pressed the insanely loud car horn. Has it always been that loud?
The trailer door opens and Steve feels like an asshole. What if he had been sleeping?
“Who’s out there?” Wayne said, coming down the stairs. Rifle in hand. Eddie told him his uncle keeps it around for scaring people, but he never keeps it loaded.
Steve goes to open the door and tell him it’s just him and he’s leaving, but the moment the door is open, he tips to the side and falls out. He hit the ground with a muted thud, groaning at the impact. Guess he forgot to put on his seatbelt. He thinks through the new haze of pain.
“Shit!” Steve hears as soft footsteps gather speed against the dead grass.
“I’m g’od.” He slurred.
“Harrington?!” Wayne asks from right beside him. When did that happen? Steve sluggishly thinks. “Christ! What happened to you?!”
“Eddie,” Steve started crying again, his tears stinging against his already puffy and raw skin. On some level he knows that’s not an answer, but the fight with his dad was about the metal head. And, well, he just misses him.
“Steve, how many fingers am I holding up?”
The boy looked, “St’p mov’n’ ’m.”
“I’m not moving my hand.” The older man said worriedly.
“Oh, th’n uh, fo’r?”
Wayne didn’t even tell him he was wrong. He just lowered his hand, “That's it, we’re going to the hospital.”
“No!!” Steve said, trying to get away from the man’s hands, which were doing their best to get him up.
“Why? You are beaten to shit, bleeding from who knows where, and you have an obvious concussion.”
“N’t 18 y’t?”
“What does your age have to do with this?!” The man was trying to be level headed, but the kid was barely coherent and bleeding onto the grass below while simultaneously refusing treatment.
“Th’y w’ll c’ll my dad.” He slurred out, so tired.
“And that would be bad?” Wayne asked before his own thoughts caught up to him. His new hypothesis was sadly strengthened by the way Steve wouldn’t meet his eyes, “Steve,” He waited until the kid’s unfocused gaze landed on him, or at least close enough. “Did your dad do this?” He watches Steve as he says nothing, the man is unsure whether that is because he is trying to process the question or because he doesn’t want to answer, but finally he gives a small wonky nod.
Wayne sighs. There’s a reason he hated Richard Harrington in high school. “Alright, come on.” he again tries to help Steve up.
“No! No h’sp’tle.”
“No hospital,” he repeats for the boy’s benefit. “But we have to get you inside.”
Steve, who was almost completely out of it, sagged in relief and nodded, but then closed his eyes before hunching over and throwing up. Wayne jumped in surprise, but quickly recovered, rubbing Steve's back, only then noticing the vest he was wearing. “That’s it, get it all out.”
After a few final dry heaves he almost fell down to the grass, into the vomit. Wayne supported him as he started to finally get him up. “Sorry.” Steve mumbled as he leaned almost all of his weight on the man.
“Not your fault.” He said, grunting at the added weight. “Better out here then in there.” He says stumbling along, struggling up the few steps into the trailer. Wayne led him over to the couch, trying to lower the injured boy gently, but didn’t succeed fully as he fell into the cushions.
Steve seemed very out of it, as Wayne went to grab his first aid kit. He came back and put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. Steve flinched back, confused where he was. “Just me son.” The man states.
“S’rry S’r”
“None of that formal shit, you can just call me Wayne.”
“S’rry W’yn’ s’r.”
The man rolled his eyes, but was more worried than exasperated. “Yeah, alright. Can I see your nose?” He also has a few bruises and bumps on either side of his temple, but there is not really anything he can do about those other than ice and painkillers.
“M’ N’se?”
“Yeah kid, I think it needs to be reset.” The man said, staying as patient as he can.
“Oh, ok’y,” The boy sits up as Wayne inspects his nose.
“Yeah, it needs to be fixed, but it will be quick.” Steve gives a wonky nod before the man resets it quickly, eliciting a yelp from the teen. “Sorry.” The boy shrugs nonchalantly, eyes unfocused and wandering around the room. Wayne would be lying if he wasn’t concerned by the way the kid acts so casual toward pain.
Although Steve isn’t totally coherent, his muddled mind still clocks all of Eddie’s things around the room. It’s obvious that Wayne hasn’t moved anything. Eddie’s jacket with all the patches is still hung by the door. His DND dice are on the table. And the metal head’s guitar is sitting in the corner of the room. Steve doesn't even realize he has started crying.
“Steve?” Wayne asks; a question in itself.
The boy continues to stare at the instrument, “Edd’e,” he whispers.
Wayne follows his eyeline and sighs. It’s a sound filled with grief, exhaustion, and overall, despair. “Yeah kid, I-” he clears his throat. The lump that’s sitting heavy there hasn't disappeared since he saw his boy lifeless and bleeding on the ground. He had gotten, not used to, but acquainted with the emotional knot in his esophagus, but it suddenly just tripled in size. “I miss him too.” He subtly wiped the sudden wetness on his face, Steve, too out of it, staring at the instrument to notice. “Alright, lift your shirt.” He says, trying to continue helping the boy but also using the task as a distraction from the gaping hole in his life.
Steve cocks his head to the side in confusion, the rolling tears on his face changing course with the movement. “There’s a lot of blood, son,” he explains.
The kid looks down, noticing and remembering the blood. But he doesn’t focus on his injuries, he focuses on the vest. “I’m ‘o s’rry.”
“Sorry?”
“Edd’e’s v’st,” Steve says as he struggles to sit up more attempting to take it off.
Wayne helps him get the piece of clothing off. He held the bloody vest and couldn't help but remember how Eddie went on and on about the former jock when his first crush on the boy bloomed. The older wants to smile and cry at the memory all at once. He tries to focus once more at the ask on hand, pushing his feelings to the side for now. “I’m not worried about the vest boy, I’m worried about you.”
“M’?”
“Yes you,” Heartbreakingly Steve still looked confused, but Wayne blamed a lot of that on the concussion and blood loss. At least that's what he told himself to feel better. “A lot of your blood is outside your body, not where it should be.” he explained further.
Steve seems to have zoned out a bit. Wayne puts Eddie's bloodied vest to the side, trying not to look at it too long. He then slowly grasps the hem of Steve’s shirt and starts to pull it up. The fabric sticks to his skin, but he is as gentle as possible. He hisses at the sight of the bloodied bandages, raw torn skin peeking out from underneath. If he didn’t have medic training for the war he would be taking him to the hospital with or without the boy’s consent.
He stared at the raw flesh between bandages, wondering what in the world had done this to Steve… to Eddie. He agreed to sign some NDAs for this news trailer, but he only did so so he wouldn’t be homeless, and could at least pay for a respectable funeral to honor his boy. He still doesn’t know what all happened, he’s not even allowed to ask, not that the hardly conscious teen beside him would be giving him any answers anyhow.
“Alright kid, I need you to sit up more.” Steve doesn’t move. ”Come on.” He pulls the boy up, eliciting a whine from the teen. “I know.” When he is upright the younger starts to tip forward, blood loss impairing his balance and motor skills. Wayne comes closer, sitting on the coffee table right in front of the other, letting the boy rest his forehead against his shoulder as he starts unwrapping the wounds. Steve groans in pain, especially as it gets to the end, the last bit sticking to the inflamed tissue. “Almost done.” With this part. Steve nods minutely into his shoulder.
As soon as the wrap is completely off, the bleeding intensifies. “Shit!”
“S’rry.” Steve immediately says, unsure what he’s apologizing for, but it’s usually the safest bet.
Wayne quickly grabs gauze, holding it to the injury, causing Steve to gasp in pain, “Got nothing to apologise for son.” He says, keeping pressure.
“I’m caus’n’ trou’le.”
“Seems like trouble finds you, not the other way around.” Steve doesn’t reply, eyes drooping. Wayne carefully releases some of the pressure and is glad to see the flow slowing down. He keeps one hand on the gauze while the other grabs rubbing alcohol and new bandages. “I have to disinfect the wound, and I’m not gonna lie, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch.” Steve gave a small nod of acknowledgment.
Wayne gets out more gauze soaking some with the alcohol. He knows a warning will cause the kid to tense up so he quickly takes the bloody gauze off and pats the disinfectant covered ones on the wounds.
“Fuck!!!!” Steve yelps and jerks away, but Wayne drops the bloodied gauze and holds Steve’s shoulder still with his now free hand as he continues to clean the torn flesh.
“I know, almost done.” He murmurs. Once he finishes he looks up and sees Steve’s eyes squeezed tight in pain. “I’m just gonna to quickly rebandage and then you can rest.” Steve says nothing, but his tightly wrinkled eyelids relax a bit. The man makes quick work with the new dressing.
“Alright, you can use…” Wayne was about to suggest the bedroom, but realized it wasn’t the best idea. He kept all of Eddie’s stuff boxed up in there. He has been using the couch, like he would have been if the metal-head was still here. He has yet to venture inside since he put Eddie’s stuff there, only using the livingroom, kitchen, and bathroom. “You can sleep on the couch.”
“Isn’t th’s your b’d?”
“Usually it’s my bed, but I’ll use the armchair.”
“No I c’n-”
“This is not up for debate. I need to wake you up every few hours anyway. Concussion protocol and all.”
“I’m s’rry.” Steve says, tone sounding ashamed.
Wayne shakes his head sadly, “You don’t need to be sorry, but you do need to take these.” Wayne says, holding out some Advil and his water bottle that had been on the coffee table. Steve takes the pills with a shaking hand, swallowing them without question. The man helps Steve lie down before going to the kitchens and grabbing an ice pack, wrapping it in a dish towel before going back and handing it to Steve.
“Th’nks.”
“It’s no problem,” he says, laying a blanket over the kid. Steve put the ice on his head and closed his eyes with a contented sigh, the cold feeling blissful against his hot aching head.
As Steve falls asleep Wayne settles into the armchair across the room.
Steve did everything he could to save Eddie and Wayne was going to do the same for the boy. He’s not losing another son kid.