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“I'm telling you, Rob, this place is haunted.”
The only response Steve gets from his best friend is an eye roll as she makes her way to the kitchen, where breakfast awaits them in all its sweet-smelling glory.
Fine, he admits it sounds crazy when he says it out loud, but he's telling the truth; this apartment is haunted, and if Steve wasn't so fucking broke right now, he'd be looking for a new place already. But with the meager salary the hospital has been paying him, and without the monthly allowance from his parents, Steve can barely afford this haunted apartment; he really doubts he'd find anything better than this even if he tried.
“I’m serious here!” Steve insists.
Robin still doesn’t seem convinced. She takes a look around the tiny kitchen; from the well-loved hardwood flooring to the mismatched tiles over the sink and then the peeling paint on the ceiling.
“Doesn’t look haunted to me, just looks like it needs some serious renovations,” she says, hands on her hips as she considers her surroundings. “What the hell is that weird stain on the ceiling?”
“I don’t know, it was already there when I moved in.”
Robin scrunches her nose, not bothering to hide her judgement as she glares at the mysterious stain as if it had offended her somehow.
Steve really doesn’t have time for that. He snaps his fingers in front of her face to bring her attention back to the matter at hand.
“Stop staring at the stain and focus, Buckley.”
“Fine, but I’m not doing this on an empty stomach. You promised me food.”
Fair enough.
Steve lets Robin finally take her seat and stuff her face with the mountain of french toast he’s made just for her.
It’s only after Robin’s cleaned her plate for the first time, and then reaches out to get seconds, that she says, “Alright, Harrington, why do you think your apartment is haunted?”
“It’s the noise, Robin.”
Robin blinks at him, waiting for Steve to elaborate, but he doesn’t.
“The noise? What noise?”
Steve puts down his fork; lets it rest on his bowl of fruit salad as he leans in on his elbows.
“Almost every night there’s this noise that wakes me up,” he says, voice coming down an octave and eyes anxiously darting around the sunlit kitchen as if he expected a ghost to pop out from some corner at any moment. “It’s so loud, Robin, and so weird. This clang, clang, clang that keeps echoing in the middle of the night.” His fist comes down on the table to mimic the sound, their coffee mugs rattling with each punch. “I swear to you, the first time this shit woke me up, took me over an hour to fall asleep again, which considering my work schedule these past few months, it’s less than ideal for me.”
“A noise that wakes you up?” Robin asks in bafflement, her eyebrows so high they are hidden under her bangs. “That’s it? You hear a noise and you think the place is haunted? It’s probably just the old plumbing, Dingus! Or your furniture expanding! Or maybe you have a rat problem inside your walls; I wouldn’t discard that, this place is older than my grandma.”
Steve shakes his head; he’s considered all those possibilities before.
“I know what those sounds are like, it’s not that. What wakes me up is this loud, metallic clang, as if someone was beating a trashcan with a baseball bat or something. And then there’s also the giggling that I can sometimes hear along with the other sounds, and once I saw a shadow outside my window too, a human shadow. It’s creepy as fuck.”
That catches Robin’s attention. She goes completely still, the coffee mug wavering midway to her mouth. “Giggling?”
“Yeah, giggling.”
Silence falls over them, Steve’s words settling in and at last making Robin uneasy. She gulps, her stomach suddenly too queasy for her to eat anything else. The half-drunk mug comes down to the table with a dry little thud.
“You’re fucking with me,” she tries, but Steve shakes his head again.
“I’m not, I swear. This has been going on for weeks. But if you don’t believe me and want to see for yourself, spend the night here. I have a 24-hour shift today, won’t be home until late afternoon tomorrow. Stay here and you’ll understand what I’m talking about.”
Robin considers his offer, her eyes squinting and lips pursing as she watches Steve warily. She still doesn’t believe him, but she probably believes that Steve believes what he’s saying and that is enough to make her hesitate.
Steve’s lips curl into a teasing grin when he notices this. “Are you scared?” he taunts, and Robin squeaks in indignation.
“I am not! Shut up!”
Yep, she totally is. Robin can deny all she wants, but Steve’s known her long enough to be familiar with her telltales. She’s not fooling him.
“I thought you didn’t believe this place’s haunted.”
“And I don’t, you’re just being a Dingus and seeing things where there’s nothing to see,” Robin scoffs, taking her fork and stabbing a piece of french toast with a little too much strength before popping it into her mouth.
“Then you have no reason to not stay here tonight.” Arms crossed over his chest, Steve tilts his head to the side as he gives Robin the fakest innocent expression he can muster. “Since you’re not scared or anything, of course, this won’t be a problem to you.”
“I’m not fucking scared,” she insists through gritted teeth. Steve just stares at her with the same innocent look. Doesn’t take long for Robin to break. “Fine! Okay, I’ll stay here tonight.” Her fork comes up, pointing it at Steve’s nose until he goes cross-eyed. “Drop this shit eating grin. I’m not scared and I’m just staying here tonight to prove that you’re being a superstitious idiot. If anything, I’ll be the one laughing tomorrow.”
Steve raises his hands in mocking defeat. “Whatever you say, Rob. I guess we’ll finally find out if I’m imagining things or not, right?”
“You bet we will,” she grumbles.
They don’t discuss the topic any further. They finish their breakfast, talk about other things and take care of the dishes when they’re done.
They hang out the rest of the morning, watch bad daytime television and make lunch together. When Robin leaves, promising she’d be back before Steve left for work, he goes back to his room to take a much-needed nap.
He only wakes up when his alarm starts blaring on the bedside table, and Steve groans as he sticks his arm out of his blanket cocoon to turn the damn thing off.
Apparently, whatever’s haunting his apartment only shows up at night.
-
-
Steve loves being a nurse.
It’s tiring as hell, makes him lose sleep and drink way more Red Bull than it’s probably advisable, but there’s nothing like the feeling of watching someone regain their strength and health and know that you helped them achieve that.
Thing is, Steve loves helping people and his job allows him to do just that. It’s fulfilling and, honestly, he wouldn’t trade this for anything else.
“Harrington, Dr. Jones wants you with her in room 204,” Norma, the nurse in charge of their schedules, says as soon as Steve reaches her station.
“Right now? But this is supposed to be my break.”
Norma gives him an unimpressed look. “Yes, Harrington, right now. The patient is gonna need surgery soon and Dr. Jones wants you there, so now would be a good time.”
“Okay, okay, I’m going.”
Steve turns on his heels and marches towards the elevators, ignoring his grumbling stomach as he ventures through the never-ending noise and madness of the ER.
If Dr. Jones wants him in surgery with her, that means Steve may be late for his morning rounds in Pediatrics, depending how long this surgery runs. Damn it, he promised Tobey he’d let the kid help him out today if he was feeling better, but if Steve runs late he won’t be able to keep his promise.
Fishing his phone out of his scrubs’ pocket, Steve pushes the call button and checks the time as he waits for the elevator.
2:17 A. M. Less than six hours until his morning rounds start. Steve really hopes this surgery is a simple one; the last thing he wants is to let Tobey down. That kid’s been through so much since he was admitted here, three weeks ago, he can really use some cheering up.
The doors open with a soft ding, interrupting Steve’s reveries. He steps aside so people can pass, greets a couple of cool interns that always bring snacks for all the nurses, then gets into the lift, pushing the button to the second floor.
He’s pocketing his phone when it buzzes, out of nowhere.
It buzzes again and again and again. And Steve is only human; he’s allowed to get curious when he gets a weird influx of notifications at two in the morning.
He unlocks his phone quickly, his brows furrowing when he sees a wall of texts from Robin, of all people.
For a moment, he panics. Why the hell is Robin texting him this late? Did something happen to her? Does she need his help? Oh my God, is she dying?
His panic, however, only lasts until he reads the first text. It soon turns into amusement, then Steve finds himself laughing as he reads the rest of his friend’s texts.
I hate your apartment
Fuck you and fuck your haunted apstmebt
I thohght you were joking about the giggling
Wtf is this, dingus?
This place is shit
We’re gonna find somewhere else
You can’t live here with a fucking ghost
Omg it’s giggling again
WHAT THE FUCK, STEVEN????
When the doors open again at the right floor, Steve is wiping some stray tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, his belly hurting from laughing too hard. He types a quick response, then pockets his phone again, still laughing a little as he makes his way to room 204.
Chill, it stops giggling after a while. :D
-
-
In the end, the surgery Dr. Jones wanted Steve to help her with is indeed a simple one.
By five thirty they are already taking the patient to the recovery room, well and sleeping soundly, now without the battered appendix that had been giving him trouble. Steve still gets a couple of hours of shuteye in the nap room before he heads to Pediatrics just in time for his morning rounds.
Tobey’s brilliant smile when he sees Steve entering his room, and the little boy’s genuine excitement as he follows Steve around to visit the other kids, is rewarding and all the motivation Steve needs to handle the rest of his shift that day.
Steve doesn’t miss the grateful, watery smiles Tobey’s parents give him when they see the happiness on their son’s face when they get back to the kid’s room.
Yeah, he really loves being a nurse.
-
-
Technically, Steve’s shift should’ve ended around five, but of course he only manages to leave a little past seven.
He’s fucking exhausted when he finally gets home.
A relieved little sigh leaves Steve’s lips as he locks the door and lets his backpack fall to the floor with a thud, not really caring about the neighbor below. His body sags backwards and Steve rests against the closed door, eyes screwing shut for just a moment as he takes in the welcome, blessed silence of his empty apartment.
He doesn’t stay there too long, though. As amazing as it feels to be home, Steve still has a few chores he needs to deal with before he can let himself relax and rest.
With another little sigh, he toes off his shoes, fetches his backpack from the floor and crosses the apartment towards the crammed laundry area, where Steve unloads the used scrubs along with the others already there and starts the washer.
In the kitchen, he finds a note from Robin on the counter, saying she left some fried rice and orange chicken for him in the fridge. Steve almost cries when he pulls the door open and, indeed, there are two food container there, just waiting for him. He makes a mental note to treat Robin to breakfast again sometime soon.
A quick shower later, Steve inhales the food Robin left for him, takes out the trash, puts the bowl of cat food on the fire escape for the strays and, finally, turns in for the night. The sheets are soft to the touch and still smell faintly like Robin’s body splash and Steve melts into the mattress, his eyes slipping shut before he even notices it. He barely has time to pull the comforter over him before he’s out like a light.
-
-
Steve doesn’t know for how long he slept, but when the clanging sound wakes him up it’s still dark outside, so it can’t have been for more than a few hours. The streetlight outside casts a soft yellow light that sneaks into Steve’s bedroom through a slit on the curtains and illuminates the room just enough for Steve to see the exact moment that weird, giggling shadow passes outside.
The metallic clang, clang, clang follows the shadow, but this night Steve feels so fucking tired he can’t bring himself to be scared; he’s just really fucking annoyed that this damn ghost won’t let him sleep.
He groans; buries his face in the closest pillow and just prays for the noise to stop soon because Steve’s not really in the mood for this right now.
His brain isn’t even working properly, apparently, because it takes Steve a good while to realize that something is different from the other times. When he does, however, he jolts up, fully awake.
The ghost is singing.
Steve can’t quite catch the exact words, but the giggles are followed by what it’s unmistakably a melody he’s sure he’s heard somewhere.
Since when do ghosts sing?
They don’t, at least not that Steve knows, and this realization gets him curious enough for Steve to crawl out of bed and pad his way to the window, where he at last recognizes the song.
Just like meee,
they long to beee,
close to youuuu
A choked laugh leaves his lips, half snort and half chuckle, as Steve reaches for the curtains and pulls them away just a little bit more so he can see outside.
There’s nothing in the fire escape, most of the lights on the building across the street are off and down the streets are completely empty.
On the day that you were born the angels got together
And decided to create a dream come true
So they sprinkled moondust in your hair of gold
And starlight in your eyes of bluuuue
When Steve looks up, he finds it; the source of all the noise.
It’s not a ghost, or a monster, or any other supernatural creature; it’s just a guy, pale hands grabbing the rails on the fire escape from the apartment above Steve’s as he sings The Carpenters and giggles himself silly as he does so. The guy is clearly drunk.
Steve can’t see him clearly. The streetlights help, but the metal stairs of the fire escape don’t let Steve see what the guy looks like. He can make out heavy boots, dark pants and a wild mess of curls but that’s about it.
That is why all the girls in town
Follow you
All around
Just like meee
They long to beee
CLOSE TO YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!!
And then, just as the last word leaves his mouth, the guy throws himself through the window and into the apartment above, his heavy boots clanging against the metal structure and then nothing else.
Steve waits a few moments, half expecting to hear the man walking around the apartment, but nothing comes.
“What the actual fuck?” Steve murmurs to himself as he stares at the empty spot the man has just vacated, as if it could somehow explain what exactly he’s just witnessed.
So all this time, the thing haunting Steve’s apartment has just been his drunk neighbor? Just like that?
Steve has to admit that a drunk neighbor makes much more sense than a supernatural entity haunting the place, but a small part of him is kinda disappointed. How ordinarily normal.
“Damn it, now I’m gonna have to tell Robin she was right.”
Or maybe not. Maybe he’s just gonna wait and see how long it takes Robin to find out there’s no ghost wandering the building and making creepy noises in the middle of the night. As Steve lets the curtains go and fall back into place, he decides he can think about it later, when his arms and legs don’t feel like lead weights and there’s no exhaustion making Steve think absurdities.
Yeah, that sounds like a plan.
Steve goes back to bed and, this time, there are no more weird noises to wake him up.
-
-
Three days later, Steve is leaving for work, early in the morning, when he runs into his drunk neighbor for the first time.
One minute he’s in the elevator, texting Robin about going out for brunch that weekend, the next the doors are opening and he’s treated to the breathtaking sight that is his drunk neighbor up-close and bathed in the early morning sunlight.
Steve couldn’t see the man’s face that night, but he can now and it’s doing weird things to his insides. It has to be him. The pale skin, the crazy hair, the all-dark clothes and heavy boots; it can’t be a coincidence.
Steve also wasn’t expecting him to be so pretty, all high cheekbones and sharp jawline. The guy has the plushiest, pinkest lips Steve’s ever seen, and a beautiful pair of eyes too; so, so round and of a dark shade of brown like melted chocolate.
Jesus Christ, Steve’s seeing the guy for the first time and he’s already making poetry about his damn eyes. What is wrong with him?
A glint of amusement crosses the man’s eyes and Steve realizes he’s been shamelessly staring. The elevator doors start to close suddenly, and Steve is so busy internally kicking himself for that slip that he’s too slow to react and try to stop it.
His drunk neighbor, however, isn’t. Looks like he’s not really drunk this time around.
The guy sticks out his arm quickly, slapping a hand against the doors and making them open again. Steve can’t help but notice the assortment of rings adorning his fingers.
“You coming out?” he asks.
And, yep, it’s really him; that smooth voice singing Close to You in the middle of the night is still fresh in Steve’s memories. His face heats up when he realizes he’s still stalling. He’s gotta get a grip.
“Yes, sorry,” Steve says in a rush, fumbling his way out of the lift as the guy steps a little to the side to let him pass, still holding the door.
“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart,” his neighbor says when their shoulders brush, a toothy smile taking over his pretty face. Steve’s heart stutters in his chest, and he almost trips on his own feet. “Have a good day.”
The doors close, but Steve still has time to see the man wink at him before they do.
Takes an embarrassingly long time for Steve’s brain to start working again.
-
-
As entertaining as meeting his neighbor might have been, Steve doesn’t have much time to think about it. Things at the hospital get busier than they already were.
The HR still hasn’t hired the nurses they need and, on top of that, they’ve found out that a bunch of nurses that works in Geriatrics was stealing drugs from the Pharmacy to sell and make some extra money. These nurses, obviously, are fired as soon as the HR is made aware of the situation, but this ends up leaving them even more understaffed.
Steve’s 24-hour shifts are twenty-four in name only. He arrives at the hospital in the morning, not knowing when he'll be able to leave. He’s lucky when he manages to end his shift in less than thirty hours.
It’s insanity, he knows. No one is built to work that many hours at once, and Steve is reminded of that every time he needs to get out of bed. His whole body protests, muscles rigid and sore as he drags himself to the bathroom every morning and his brain foggy and too slow until he’s had at least two cups of coffee.
“You’re gonna work yourself into an early grave if you keep this up,” Robin tells him one day when they finally get to meet up for their brunch.
Steve can’t even feel offended because he’s looked at himself in the mirror today and knows he looks like shit. The bags under his eyes are getting darker every day, his skin has long lost its healthy golden tan and it’s more like a sickly, yellowish hue after months copped up working in that hospital with barely any days off. He’s thinner too, although he’s been trying to hide it by wearing baggier clothes.
“I know, Rob, but what do you want me to do? Leave those people there unattended?”
Because in the end it all comes back to that. As exhausted as he may feel, as draining and unfair and, frankly, unethical as his situation is, there are people in that hospital that need him, and he doesn’t have the heart to let any of them down.
Judging by the way Robin presses her lips together, she knows all that. And even though she clearly doesn’t agree with him, she doesn’t try to argue.
Steve’s not gonna change his mind and Robin’s known him for long enough to recognize a lost battle when she sees one.
-
-
Weeks pass with no change.
Steve doesn’t see his pretty neighbor again since his work schedule has been getting worse and more unpredictable than ever, but he does hear the man climbing the fire escape some nights, giggling and singing random songs Steve’s too tired to even bother with paying attention to. He’s just glad when the noise stops and he can fall asleep again.
Around a month after the nurses are fired and Steve’s find himself with an increased workload, his shift runs way longer than ever before.
It’s a little over one in the morning when Steve gets home and, this time, he has no more energy to do anything other than go straight to bed and sleep, so that’s what he does.
He dumps his backpack on the floor with his shoes and makes a beeline to his bedroom, shedding off his clothes on his way there until he’s only in his underwear. Steve doesn’t turn on a single light; after almost three months living in this apartment, he’s familiar enough with his surroundings to make the short walk without tripping or bumping on anything.
It’s a testament of how drained out Steve is that he only realizes there’s someone on his bed when he puts the first knee on the edge of the mattress, ready to flop down face first.
But at the last second, he looks down and he finally notices the body already lying there, snoring softly and cuddling one of Steve’s pillows.
Steve freezes. He stares at the unconscious person on his bed, but his brain just can't make any sense out of what he’s seeing.
“What is—huh?” he murmurs, rubbing his own eyes to make sure he’s not imagining things.
Did he just lose his mind out of exhaustion? Because that can’t be fucking real. There can’t be a fucking stranger on his fucking bed; that makes no sense.
But it’s real. Steve rubs his eyes until they feel raw, but the person is still right there.
Oh, fucking great. Now he has to deal with home invasion. Yeah, that’s exactly what he needs right now, after working almost forty hours straight.
And what kind of invader falls asleep on the victim’s bed? What, breaking and entering is too much fucking work and they had to take a quick nap before they could finish stealing Steve’s things? What kind of fuckery is this?
Instead of feeling fear as any normal, rested person probably would in a situation like that, Steve gets pissed.
Gritting his teeth in irritation, he leans in and pushes the person’s shoulder, calling out, “Hey! Wake the fuck up.”
Hours later, after he’s had his ten hours of sleep and a full, sugary breakfast, Steve’s gonna think back about what he’s just done and come to the conclusion that yes, he’d probably lost his mind out of exhaustion a little, because no sane person would find an unknown person sleeping on their bed and try to wake them up. But that’s not the case right now.
Right now, Steve is just fucking annoyed that someone’s is getting between him and his more than deserved rest.
The push makes the person turn over and to their back, and although they don’t give off any signs of waking up, Steve now has a clear view of their face.
It’s the pretty neighbor.
His curls are splayed over the pillow, his beautiful face slack in his sleep and mouth slightly open as he breathes deep and even; he’s still in his clothes but his boots are missing and Steve can see bright yellow socks peeking out the hem of his pants.
It makes even less sense than if it was just some good, old burglar. Someone invading his apartment to steal his things? Steve can understand that. It sucks, sure, but it’s not that unusual –except for the part where the invader forgot to actually steal his things and ended up falling asleep in the middle of their job, but that’s not really the point.
The point is that his neighbor just broke into Steve’s apartment to take a nap, apparently, even though the guy’s own apartment is only a flight of stairs away from him. That, unfortunately, Steve can’t seem to wrap his mind around.
His eyes flick around the semi-dark room until they find the window that leads to the fire escape. It’s wide open and Steve can’t remember closing it on Tuesday, before he left for work.
At least he now knows how the man got in, since his front door was locked when he got here a few minutes ago.
Jesus Christ, why this kind of shit has to happen to him? Steve just wants to get some sleep. Is that too much to ask?
“Hey, man, you gotta wake up,” he tries again, now shaking the guy’s shoulder a little more forcefully. The man doesn’t even stir. “Come on, wake the fuck up!”
There’s some movement behind the man’s eyelids but that’s about it. And when Steve tries to shake him awake again, he has the audacity to slap Steve’s hand away, his eyes still tightly shut and breath even as he does.
That’s what makes Steve snap for good.
“You know what? Fuck this! Stay there if you want, I don’t care!”
Huffing in annoyance, Steve pushes the sleeping man away until he makes up enough space on the bed for him to slip under the covers and finally, finally give his aching body a fucking break.
It feels wonderful after almost forty hours working without rest, even with the unexpected company of his weird fucking neighbor.
Steve is fast asleep before he can even consider how dangerous and fucked up this situation is.
He doesn’t even close the window.
-
-
He doesn’t dream that night; his mind probably too drained out to conjure anything. Steve passes out more than he sleeps, really, and it’s all black, empty nothingness for what feels like forever.
And then there’s a shift, and he’s partially aware of himself again. It’s like he’s floating in that weird limbo between sleep and consciousness, where Steve knows he’s slowly coming back to wakefulness but still doesn’t have enough control over his own body yet.
It’s the sound of something hitting the floor, followed by some very creative cursing in a very deep, hoarse voice that brings Steve back to the real world, and he blinks his eyes, bleary and still kinda heavy, as the world around him come into focus again.
He’s in his room, lying in his bed with the covers now down to his tummy and his pretty neighbor is by the window, one socked foot up on the windowsill, the other on the hardwood floor as he watches Steve with wide, panicked eyes. The man’s boots are sideways on the floor, along with the plate Steve uses to feed the stray cats and a small mess of stale cat food.
Oh, so that’s what woke him up, then.
The man seems frozen into place, doesn’t move a muscle when Steve props himself up then sits up on the bed, the covers sliding down and bunching up over his lap. Dark eyes follow each one of his movements but the man still doesn’t utter a single word, as if he expects Steve not to notice his presence if he stays still for long enough.
For some odd reason, Steve finds this awfully endearing.
“Morning,” he says, and has to hold back a laugh when the poor guy visibly winces.
His foot slides from the windowsill and he turns to face Steve fully, his back now to the open window.
“Huh, morning?”
There’s no trace of that flirty guy Steve met that day in the elevators, or of the giggly drunk Steve hears often during the night. With his lips pressed into a thin line and hands balled at his sides, the man is so uncomfortable and afraid that Steve feels a little bad for him.
This is a fucking weird situation, though. At least it is for Steve, and considering that the man seems to be preparing himself to bolt any second now, must be weird for him too.
It’s that thought that makes Steve puts aside all his doubts and ask, “Do you want some breakfast?”
The shocked face the man makes is hilarious. “What?” he squeaks.
“I asked if you want some breakfast.”
“Yeah, I heard, but why?”
And isn’t that a good question? Why is Steve asking this man if he wants some breakfast? Why isn’t Steve freaking out that a literal stranger just sneaked into his apartment in the middle of the night and decided to spend the night there? Why is Steve acting like that whole situation is the most normal thing in the world and not a complete absurd?
For starters, he’s still too tired to care, even after a full night’s sleep. Second, if this man was planning on hurting him or stealing from him, he’d have done it while Steve was asleep and he definitely wouldn’t have stuck around to chat now that Steve was awake.
And there’s also the fact that the guy is pretty fucking hot, and is also right there, and Steve would be dead before he let an opportunity like that slide.
“Because I want to,” he shrugs, tilting his head to the side. “Do I really need any other reason?”
He feels it, the change in the man’s posture. He sees the moment the tension in his body eases, his hands relax and his expression smooths out as he understands that he hasn’t fucked up. That against all odds, Steve is offering him an olive branch and basically saying that it’s okay; there’s no need for panic there.
The man’s lips curl into a grateful smile, twin dimples making an appearance on his cheeks and making him look boyish as he brushes the hair out of his eyes. It’s not the flirty man from before quite yet, but it’s close.
“I guess not,” his neighbor says. He hesitates only for a moment before taking a step closer to the bed. “What are we having?”
Steve’s grin is still soft and a little sleepy around the edges. “What do you think about chocolate chip pancakes?”
-
-
His neighbor’s name is Eddie.
He’s thirty-two, works as an independent fantasy writer during the day, and gets some bartender gigs during the night to make ends meet. He’s been living in this building for almost three years.
“I had no idea there was someone living in this apartment,” he says as he hands Steve a cup of milk to add to the batter. Eddie refused to just sit down and wait until Steve was done making breakfast, so he’s in charge of passing Steve the ingredients. “This place’s been empty for over a year, and I never even heard a single noise coming from here. You’re quieter than a ghost, man.”
Steve can’t hold back the loud snort that escapes him. Oh, the irony.
“Did I say something funny?” Eddie asks in confusion.
Steve covers his amusement with a cough. “Sorry, you reminded me of this inside joke I have with my best friend. It’s nothing, really.”
They make breakfast together, working in harmony as the late morning sun bathes the kitchen in golden light and the first beats of Pink Pony Club start playing on the tiny bluetooth speaker Steve always leaves on the counter.
This should be weird. Half an hour ago, Steve still thought about Eddie as his “pretty neighbor”, they hardly know each other.
But it’s not weird. Far from it, actually.
They work together as if they’ve been doing it for ages. Eddie hands him ingredients before Steve even asks, takes the dirty dishes and wipes the counters clean without any prompting. The last time Robin tried to help Steve in the kitchen, he had to kick her out because she kept getting in his way all the time, but Eddie seems to know exactly when Steve needs space and when he can come closer.
It’s weirdly easy, but it’s not weird at all.
“Just so you know, I never meant to break into your apartment,” Eddie says, once their breakfast is done and they sit down to eat. “I just miscalculated how many stairs I had already climbed up. Sorry about that.”
“How? Your apartment is on the third floor, Eddie. There’s not that many stairs to climb.”
“My friend said I couldn’t hold my liquor anymore and challenged me to one of those ten shots challenges. He gave up on shot number seven.”
“And you?”
Eddie smiles brightly, those cute dimples showing up once again. “Drank all ten then finished up the bottle.”
Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, impressed. Eddie takes a generous bite of pancake and pretends he’s not proud of his feat.
-
-
“You let a stranger sleep in your bed with you then offered to cook him breakfast?” Robin shrieks, once Steve is done telling her about the Eddie incident.
It’s a little past six, and they’re having drinks, lazing on the couch and catching up after days without seeing each other properly. There’s a movie playing on Steve’s TV, but neither of them is watching it. Or is it a show? Steve can’t remember right now.
“Are you insane, Dingus?” Robin shoots up from where she’s been propped on the cushions, the margarita in her hand partially spilling over her shirt but she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too busy glaring daggers at Steve. “What if he was a murderer? Or a thief? Or worse! Where the hell is your self-preservation? Did you even think about how many ways this could have gone wrong? Jesus Christ!”
Robin’s voice gets all high pitched and strangled as each word paints a more horrible scenario in her mind and gets her frantic. Steve loves her to bits, and appreciates her concern over his well-being, he does, but she’s being kind of a hypocrite there.
“Thanks for the concern, Rob, but, first, nothing went wrong, so chill.”
“But it could have.”
“But didn’t, so stop worrying.” Steve takes a small sip of his own margarita. “And second, how is this different from the times you go out and bring girls home? For all you know, those girls could’ve been murderers too. At least I was aware of who was the guy sleeping on my bed and where he lived.”
It’s a little bit funny how his words disarm Robin completely. She stares at him, baffled and with her mouth open but without speaking. Steve finishes off his drink with a satisfied smile adorning his face and wastes no time before getting up to refill his glass.
He’s crossing the threshold to the kitchen when he hears Robin groan in defeat, “Ugh, I hate when you have rational arguments to justify your dumb as fuck decisions.”
Steve turns just enough to send her a smug look. “Am I wrong, though?”
Instead of answering him, Robin drains the rest of her drink as gets up too. “Shut up, I need another drink.”
When they start dinner, a while later, they are giggling like drunk idiots and Steve’s bad decisions are completely forgotten.
-
-
Steve was supposed to have three days off after that last shift from hell, but he ends up being called in after only two because a huge ass fire happens downtown and, suddenly, the ER is flooded with way more victims than the hospital can deal with.
The first ten hours are pure chaos. Victims keep coming in faster than they can treat the ones that have already been admitted. The ER is filled with screams from those who got the worst burns, cries from children who were separated from their parents, yells from family members who demand their loved ones to be treated and doctors barking orders.
After years working in this field, Steve is used to this kind of situation, but it still gives him a hell of a headache anyway. The fact that he only had time to drink two cups of water and eat one single granola bar since his shift started doesn’t help alleviate his pounding head either.
It’s nearing eight when things calm down enough for Steve to take a break. He grabs some snacks from the vending machine, some water, then heads straight to the nap room.
Two other nurses are already there, fast asleep, so Steve is careful not to disturb them as he creeps into the room and lays down on the cot across from them.
His feet throb, and his head is kinda fuzzy from the meds he took a couple of hours ago. Steve just lies there for a while, letting his sore body relax after all the stress. A few minutes later, he unwraps a protein bar and takes his phone out to check his texts.
There are a lot of memes from Robin, and Steve watches and answers to each one of them as he munches on his snacks and sips his water. Around midday, Dustin’s sent him a whole ass essay about a documentary he and Suzy watched and all the holes they found on the thing. He also sent a couple of otter videos that are currently one of his obsessions. Steve marks the essay to read later, and answers the cute videos with lots of hearts.
Max sent him a bunch of videos of her training session that day, all the moves she’s been perfecting for her next skate competition. Lucas sent him a bunch of videos of Max’s failed attempts and falls.
Steve tries to answer everything, but there’s just too many. He dutifully ignores everyone else that it’s not from his little family group, and also the damn group chat he has with the kids because there’s no way he’s gonna spend his entire break reading +999 texts from those nerds.
His heart beats faster as he scrolls further down and sees Eddie’s also texted him.
This is a new development, and not a bad one.
They exchanged numbers after that first unusual encounter and have been texting each other ever since.
It’s been… interesting so far. Eddie is a funny guy; the genuine, effortless kind of funny that comes from being extremely observant and quick witted, like Robin is. He’s also smart and talking to him never gets boring, Eddie goes on so many tangents during their conversations that Steve sometimes has a hard time keeping up with how fast the man’s brain works, but it’s nice, refreshing. It also doesn’t hurt that Eddie is a damn flirt and having such a pretty guy like that flirting with him so openly is doing wonders to Steve’s ego.
Again, it's been interesting.
Steve opens their chat and finds a bunch of new texts. There are some additions to their previous discussion about Star Wars, that turned into a discussion about the best ships in the fandom and how Reylo should’ve been some kind of Anidala with a happy ending but Disney wasted that opportunity.
There’s also a couple of pictures Eddie took of the stray cats lazing around Steve’s window and eating the food he’s left for them. The tabby cat now has a healthy belly and the black one seems more interested in napping on the shade provided by the fire escape than in anything else.
At the bottom of their chat, there’s a text from five minutes ago.
You still at work?
Steve smiles as he type his response.
Yep, at least until eight tomorrow
But being honest, I probably won’t be home ‘til noon
Eddie must have been close to his phone, because three dots soon appear on his screen and a new text quickly pops up.
Wtf???
Is that even allowed?
There must be some kind of law against this shit
Jesus!
Steve stifles a laugh, shaking his head as he feels warmth spread over his chest when the thought of Eddie being worried about him settles in.
Idk if it’s allowed
Probably not lol
I’m used to it tho, don’t worry.
The reply comes quickly once again
Now that I know that this is a frequent occurrence I’m even more worried
But tell me when you’re home
I promised I’d repay that breakfast with some tacos and I’m a man of my word
Let me know when you’re free
Steve would love to know when he’s going to be free. Isn’t that the million dollars question? Oh well.
Sure
I’ll let you know.
They chat for a few more minutes, Steve gives his own opinions about their whole Reylo debate before closing their chat and putting the phone away.
Steve still has a little over an hour before he has to go back to work, so he does the only reasonable thing in that kind of situation; he pulls the covers up to his chin and takes a nap.
-
-
Steve gets home around three in the afternoon the next day.
He deals with his laundry, eats something, then passes out until morning.
He goes to Eddie’s for lunch. The man makes the best tacos Steve’s ever tasted and they share them as they watch Arrested Development and talk about nothing in particular, really.
When Steve tries to help him with the dishes, Eddie shoos him from the kitchen and tells him to go back to the living room.
“You worked thirty hours, go rest on the couch, man,” Eddie says, pushing him towards the door. “I’ve got this.”
There’s nothing Steve can say to change Eddie’s mind on this, he soon notices, so he lets Eddie push him until he’s sitting on the couch and accepts the remote the man hands him.
Steve doesn’t mean to, but he ends up falling asleep quickly. With his belly full of delicious food and Eddie’s soft voice reaching him through the open doorway, as the man sings some old song while he does the dishes, Steve just can’t help it.
He feels safe, that’s the thing. Even though he and Eddie have known each other for a short time, there’s something about his presence that makes Steve lower his guard, that makes Steve comfortable enough to be himself and let go of his filters and walls.
It doesn’t make any sense, but Steve doesn’t care. His gut tells him that Eddie is trustworthy, and if Steve’s learnt anything in his thirty-one years of life is that his gut instincts are hardly wrong.
When Steve wakes up again, the sun is setting, there’s a blanket covering him and Eddie is on the other end of the couch, watching Twilight on mute and with subtitles, probably not to wake Steve up.
“Hey, welcome back!” he says once he notices Steve’s awake, face all soft and pretty in the blue light of the TV.
Steve’s heart rabbits in his chest.
They have leftover tacos for dinner, then climb down the fire escape to feed the strays and play with them.
-
-
It becomes their thing.
Just like brunches with Robin, whenever Steve has a day off, he takes some time to meet with Eddie too. Sometimes he goes to Eddie’s, sometimes Eddie comes over.
Some nights, while Steve is tidying up his things in his bedroom, he hears a knock on the window and when he looks up Eddie is right there, smiling at him and already pulling the window up so he can come into Steve’s room.
That becomes their thing too. With the fire escape right there, they hardly ever use the front door; always coming and going through each other’s window instead.
It’s faster that way.
Robin says it’s weird, but this friendship with Eddie has been unusual since day one, so Steve can’t see why his best friend would be so surprised to find out that they still don’t act normal around each other.
It is what it is and both Steve and Eddie are more than content with the quirky bond they’ve been building between them, so who cares?
-
-
On October, six months after Steve’s moved into the building, he loses a patient.
Jennie was only seven, and had been fighting like a champion for months against leukemia, but when fall comes and the days start getting shorter, she doesn’t resist.
The doctors and nurses did all they could, but sometimes that just isn’t enough.
This time wasn’t. This hits Steve hard.
As much as he’s been helping out basically everywhere in the hospital, Pediatrics is where he spends most of his time. He knows all the kids by name, talks to them every day, tries to make their stay there as agreeable as he possibly can.
The kids love him and he loves them too and it’s exactly because of this that losing one of them hurts so much. Even when they are sick like Jennie was, even when Steve knows they probably won’t make a full recovery. It still hurts like hell.
Steve has no idea how he manages to get home that day. He’s been feeling completely numb since the moment Jennie’s parents came rushing towards him, saying there was something wrong with their daughter, that she wasn’t waking up. He’s been moving on autopilot, his mind barely even conscious of what exactly his body is doing, where it’s going.
He does get home, though.
Somehow.
Steve toes off his shoes and leaves his things by the front door, his feet taking him straight to the bedroom as if they have a mind of their own.
His bed is unmade still. Steve had been in such a hurry the day before that he just left it like that. He climbs up, the mattress dips under his weight, the old springs protesting loudly.
Scooting up, he rests his back against the headboard; his legs come up and he wraps his arms around them, hugs them against his chest and rests his chin on his knees, as if making himself small would help him feel better.
It doesn’t. It does nothing really, Steve feels nothing.
The rational part of him knows he’s probably just in shock, that sooner or later he’s gonna snap out of this stupor and everything will finally come to the surface and spill out but right now he can’t see it happening. Right now there’s just this hollow emptiness in his chest that seems unescapable to him, so Steve doesn’t try to escape.
He stays right there, in that same position, looking at the far wall of his bedroom as the minutes slip past him without him even noticing.
At some point, Steve hears some knocking, somewhere, but it seems so far away that he can’t say if he’s really heard it or if he’s imagined it.
“Steve?”
The voice, however, is closer and even lost as he is in his stupor, Steve’s mind is still conscious enough to recognize it.
His eyes flick up and off the plain white wall of his bedroom, the first time in god knows how long, and they find Eddie there, standing close to his bed.
“Hey, man, are you okay? I knocked four times, but you seemed kinda lost in your head there.”
Eddie’s voice is careful, almost fearful, his pretty face heavy with concern as he takes a step closer, until his knees bump into the mattress.
Steve blinks, slow, measured. He doesn’t have an answer to his friend’s question, though.
Even if he had, Steve doubts he would have the motivation to say it.
There’s some more hesitation. Eddie stands by the edge of the bed, fidgeting as if debating what his next move should be. For a moment, Steve is sure he’s gonna turn around and leave, but he ends up sitting down on the mess of Steve’s unmade bed.
“Have you been crying?”
It’s the gentle manner with which Eddie says those words that make them sink into Steve’s brain and pierce that weird foggy numbness he had been drowning in for hours.
His hand comes up instinctively to touch his face, and something inside Steve breaks when he feels his cheeks wet with tears he never realized he had been shedding.
“I—” Steve tries to say, but it comes out choked, chopped.
And then he just can’t get any more words out. His own wet voice is what at last snaps Steve out of that state of shock, and everything comes crashing in, all at once. The hurt of losing Jennie, the unfairness of seeing someone so young go way too soon, the powerlessness of not being able to save her, the grief and sadness and so, so much pain.
It overwhelms Steve. His breath hitches, something like a pathetic sob leaves his mouth as he clutches the front of his shirt with trembling fingers, trying to ease the suffocating anguish weighing down on his ribcage and yet knowing this is useless effort. This time Steve feels when the first tears start spilling from his eyes again.
“Fuck.”
Steve hears Eddie curse, but can’t see his friend anymore, his vision blurred and out of focus no matter how much he tries to wipe the tears away.
He feels, though, when the mattress dips further under Eddie’s weight, and then gentle hands are pulling him in, coaxing Steve out of his huddled-up position and bringing him into a tight, comforting embrace.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” Eddie whispers into his hair, so gentle that Steve cries even harder.
He wants to tell Eddie that he doesn’t need to worry about him. Wants to reassure his friend that he’s just being silly and overreacting because he’s tired from all the double shifts he’s been pulling; that he knows that he’s gonna be okay because this is not the first time he loses a patient, and it’s not gonna be the last, and Steve is used to dealing with this.
Steve wants to, but the words are just stuck in his throat and refuse to leave.
“Everything is gonna be okay, Steve, I’m right here with you, yeah?” Eddie says as he rubs Steve’s back and holds him tight, but also with care. “You’re not alone, sweetheart, so don’t fight it. Just let it out.”
Burying his face in Eddie’s shoulder, Steve does just that. He cries until his eyes feel puffy and tender, until his exhausted body goes limp in Eddie’s arms and until he has no more tears left to shed.
Eddie doesn’t let him go for a single moment.
-
-
Steve wakes up the next morning to the smell of coffee and bacon filling the apartment.
When he gathers enough strength to leave the bed, he finds Eddie in his kitchen; barefoot, hair up and in the same clothes he was in the night before.
The smile he opens when he sees Steve there is so genuine Steve’s eyes sting a little.
Eddie makes a plate for him, pours him a cup of coffee, then sits down beside Steve to eat.
He doesn’t ask about what happened. He doesn’t try to question or pry, nor does he demands any kind of explanations from Steve.
Eddie just sits there, in Steve’s kitchen, in companionable silence as they eat their breakfast.
He also doesn’t say anything when fresh tears silently roll down Steve’s cheeks, but he’s quick to brush them away and bring Steve back into his arms.
-
-
It’s funny how much things can change in such a short amount of time.
Six months ago Eddie was just the ghost haunting Steve’s apartment, but now he’s one of the most important people in Steve’s life.
He’s the guy that makes Steve laugh with his awful jokes and ironic retorts, the guy that it’s there to cheer him up when Steve’s feeling down, or when his insane workload is taking its toll on him.
Robin will always be Steve’s person; she’s his soulmate, the one who understands Steve’s thoughts even when he doesn’t say anything and who always has his back, no matter how stupid his ideas are.
No one will ever take her place in Steve’s life. This is never gonna change.
But maybe it doesn’t need to.
Steve is not naïve; he knows Eddie and Robin don’t occupy the same space in his life. He knows that what he feels for both of them comes from two very different places.
And maybe that’s okay.
-
-
Robin gives him shit once Steve talks about it with her.
“Aaaaaw, Dingus, you have a crush on your weird neighbor,” she says in the most obnoxious voice, pinching Steve’s cheeks just to be annoying. “Have you confessed to him yet?”
Steve bats her hands away. “Shut up!”
Robin just beams at him, then makes kissy faces. “Steve and Eddie sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…”
“Oh my God, how old are you?”
Steve just hopes Eddie can’t hear Robin’s cackles from his apartment.
-
-
In December, the HR finally hires more nurses.
And despite the fact that the Holidays are usually one of the busiest times of the year in the hospital, it’s the first time in months that Steve’s 24-hour shifts actually have twenty-four hours.
He’s so happy when he gets home that first day, that he drops his things on the couch, changes into sweatpants and a thermal shirt and makes his way to the fire escape.
Eddie looks a little confused when he opens his window and finds Steve there.
“I thought you were at work,” he says, stepping back so Steve can climb through the window and into the room.
“They hired more nurses,” Steve announces, excited. “No more double shifts ever again!”
“Now that’s what I call a Christmas miracle.”
Eddie makes his famous tacos to celebrate the good news and they spend the rest of the day playing Monopoly and drinking beer.
-
-
Eddie kisses him for the first time two weeks later.
Steve is taking his clothes out of the dryer when his bedroom door slams open and Eddie comes rushing out of there, eyes wide and hair a mess and cheeks red from the cold and from how excited he clearly is.
“They’re gonna publish my book,” he blurts out before Steve can even ask what’s happening. He hands Steve a bunch of papers, grinning so large he’s dimples show up. “They’re gonna publish my fucking book, Steve!”
Steve’s so surprised by his friend’s sudden appearance that his brain doesn’t quite catch up with what he’s saying at first. But then he takes a look at the papers, sees Tor Books and contract and royalties and release date and everything clicks.
“Holy shit, Eddie!!”
He throws himself in Eddie’s arms, his clean clothes forgotten in a heap on the floor, but it’s fine. Because Eddie’s book is going to be published by the same fucking label as Brandon fucking Sanderson and Steve’s never been so proud in his whole life.
“You deserve this,” Steve says when they pull away from their embrace. “You’ve worked so hard, and the story is so fucking good. They’d be idiots if they turned you down.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
Eddie’s eyes are glinting with pride under the yellow light of Steve’s tiny laundry area, but his face has that same softness it always shows when Steve is around, and it strikes Steve, then, that maybe he’s not the only one with a crush there.
His heart skips a beat. They are so close they’re basically sharing the same air, and Eddie’s hands are warm where they’re holding Steve close by the waist.
It would be easy for Steve to just close the gap between them, if he wanted to. Eddie is right there, staring at him with such adoration like no one else ever did, but Steve still hesitates.
Eddie doesn’t.
He leans in, slow and giving Steve the chance to move away if he so wishes; eyes never leaving Steve’s, certainty never wavering.
“Feel free to punch me in the face if you think I’m overstepping here,” Eddie whispers.
He bumps their noses playfully, then joins their lips in a kiss so gentle Steve’s knees feel weak.
His lips taste like the freaking Cherry Coke Eddie’s obsessed with.
It’s perfect.
-
-
Coda:
“Wait a minute, you spent several weeks thinking your apartment was haunted, and you still stayed?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Steve agrees, cuddling up against his boyfriend’s side. After yet another long shift, Steve is ready to pass out any moment now.
“You’re insane!” Eddie cackles. He hugs Steve tight, brings him closer until he can drop kisses all over Steve’s face just to make him giggle. “The prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, but completely nuts!”
Steve raises his brows. “And you’re only finding this out now? I’m dating the guy who broke into my apartment.”
The offended little pout in Eddie’s lips is the cutest thing. “Hey! I didn’t break in, I miscalculated!”
“Sure, baby. Keep telling yourself that.”