When Friday comes, Steve's BMW pulls up in the Harringtons' driveway, heading towards the silent house. Inside the car, Eddie admires the building, quite different from what he's been used to growing up in the trailer park.

Although plain-looking with its greenish gray wooden exterior aligned over the basement, adorned with red bricks, the house stands on four whole floors. On the left, an annex bearing the same color as the house stretches in front of a swimming pool, tucked away in the backyard. Surrounded by trees, the house seems frozen in Fall despite the sun.

Eddie's jaw drops at the sight of his friend's home. Never in his wildest dreams would he even dare wish for such a place. It would have been way out of his league.

"For fuck's sake, Harrington, I knew your parents were loaded, but that… That's even bigger than what I imagined."

"Is it? I guess I don't really pay attention to it anymore."

With a roll of his eye and a groan, Eddie turns to his friend.

"As if. Your house is fucking Disneyland, dude. You've seen my trailer!"

Steve blushes and nods. He didn't mean to embarrass him nor brag about his situation to someone who's never had the same chances as him. Staying alone for sometimes weeks on end in this big house often makes him forget that although the loneliness was painful, he has a more than decent roof over his head. One possibly sturdier than those of his friends.

Robin doesn't have this chance. Neither does Dustin. Max had one that couldn't protect her at all, leaving her vulnerable to abuse from Billy and the ravaging alcoholism of her mother, without counting Vecna's attacks.

Eddie was the least lucky of the bunch.

He stops the car before the garage door, deciding to leave it out to drive him back to the shelter later on. His fingers remain wrapped around the steering wheel as he stares at its center.

"I'm sorry, Eddie. I didn't mean to —"

"Hey, no harm done. I know you hate this place, of course you wouldn't pay attention to it anymore."

"Yeah, but I didn't want it to come across as my privileged ass bragging or nagging at you."

"It didn't, Harrington. Relax."

He cranes his neck with a smile, trying to catch Steve's eyes. When he does, he rubs his friend's shoulder and pats it. Strangely, he doesn't notice his host's flaming red face as he does.

The two of them step out of the car, slamming the doors behind them. They make their way towards the double wooden doors, where Steve pulls out his set of keys and unlocks them. Once their shoes are kicked off to the side of the large blue doormat ornamented with pink birds and white fringes on either side, Eddie takes off his jacket. Stretching his hand out ever so gently, his host takes it to hang it on the shiny coat rack screwed into the wall.

"I feel like a lady invited for a date," Eddie snorts. "Nobody's ever taken my vest off like that."

"Well, there's a first time for everything. Shall I give you the tour?"

Eddie nods and follows him across the house, his gaze wandering around the spaces he's brought to. In spite of Steve's simplicity, the Harringtons' home is a blatant exhibition of their social status. Everything is neatly aligned upon the shelves, although the ornaments are kept to a minimum. Fancy artworks hang on the walls, framing each doorway and lining up the staircase. No glass cases full of trophies and prizes, nor quirky souvenirs from their travels. The relatively modern and spotless furniture were placed in strict patterns, as if following invisible lines on the floor. A few family pictures dotted the walls, sparse and rare, including a large photograph of Mr. and Mrs. Harrington's wedding.

The young man laughs internally at its sight, having heard about Mr. Harrington's infidelity from Steve. Mrs. Harrington seems to keep a visible reminder of his marital status so that he wouldn't forget.

Upstairs, they visit the different rooms, excluding the master bedroom. Not much different from the lower floor, the minimalist appearance of each space soothes Eddie despite his deep dislike for it. He knows that if he had even half of the Harringtons' fortune, he would be surrounding himself with things he loves, from Dungeons and Dragons artworks to band posters up the wall, with a display of all the guitars he would own. Not a single piece of wall would be left uncovered.

At last, Steve pushes the door to his bedroom with pursed lips. Eddie steps in, curious about what the lair of the former King of Hawkins High could look like. He doesn't know what to expect, judging from the rest of the house — does he, as a school athlete, display his medals and prizes on shelves? Are the walls covered with posters of Hollywood's it-girls? Does he have a shrine dedicated to Nancy?

Who knows?

From the first look inside, Eddie is almost disappointed to see how normal — yet painful to the eye — Steve's bedroom looks. The green and off-white checkered paper covers every inch of the walls, from floor to ceiling. A single square window brings natural light in on the left side of the room, framed by long curtains matching the walls. Next to the door, there is a chest of drawers topped with a design lamp — most likely gifted by his mother — next to a trophy and a souvenir mug from a trip.

In the corner next to it, he finds a simple wooden desk, above which a framed poster of a red Ferrari hangs and a red chair tucked underneath, upon which rests one of Steve's dirty shirts. Against the white lamp rests photos from a booth of Dustin and Steve in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, pulling faces at the camera. In the last photo of the strip, Robin's head peeks from between the curtains, startling Dustin, whose mouth opens wide at her sight.

Facing the door, a single nightstand covered with sports magazines stands next to a large unmade bed with dark blue sheets. Still marked by Steve's shape, a pleasant perfume emanates from it. A blend of his own scent, fresh laundry detergent and flowery softener. A mix that doesn't leave him indifferent. A tingle in his heart makes him crave burying his face into the fabric to inhale Steve's scent until he can't smell it anymore. He blushes at his own reaction, confused that he would even want any of it in the first place.

As he eyes the backpack on the right side of the door hiding under Steve's Family Video uniform, he simply nods, grinning at his friend.

"I have to say that I never imagined your room to look like this."

"What did you expect?" Steve chuckles.

"I don't know. Something more sportsy and more… chick-magnety."

Steve throws his head back with a laugh.

"Well, sorry to disappoint. To be honest, I haven't changed the decoration since I was a sophomore. Never really cared about it."

"I expected to have my eyes bursting at the sight of half-naked ladies upon your walls, but your room looks awfully chaste," Eddie adds, triggering amusement in Steve's expression. "It's like downstairs, everything is so… perfect. Aligned. Have you really been living here almost on your own without trashing everything?"

"Yup."

"Well, well. Today's youth isn't what it used to be."

His friend's hand rests between his shoulder blades, bringing rosy hues to his cheeks. He walks out of the room, burying his fingers in his pockets.

"I think the weather's nice enough for a dip, what do you think?" Steve suggests.

Cocking an eyebrow, Eddie eyes him, using humor to hide his embarrassment.

"You think I'm one of your chicks?"

"No," Steve replies almost defensively. "Swimming in the pool can be platonic, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Eddie sighs. "I just didn't bring anything."

"It's okay, I gotcha. We're about the same size, right?"

"I don't know if I can fit in your King sizes."

Steve slaps his arm playfully and steps back inside his room, opening one of his drawers to find swim shorts. He picks one up and holds it up to Eddie to estimate whether he would fit in them.

"Hey," Eddie exclaims as Steve's fingers near his groin. "Take me out to dinner first!"

"Why did you think I invited you here?" Steve plays along. "Yeah, should be good enough."

He hands the shorts to Eddie, asking again whether he feels like swimming. He closes his fingers around the green and blue plaid pattern with a nod. Steve leaves him to change in his room while he gathers towels and fresh bottles of water downstairs. As he places everything on the black console table in the entrance, Eddie appears at the top of the stairs, stiff as a rod.

Steve's eyes wander across his pale skin and bare chest as he gulps. His tartan shorts compliment him more than they did him.

"Um," he stammers, realizing that he is staring, "h-how do they fit?"

"Great."

"Good. Great. Yeah."

He picks up one of the towels and walks up the stairs, before gently throwing it at Eddie.

"For your modesty… dude."

Eddie laughs and wraps the soft towel around himself, bringing one of its corners up to his nose to smell the fabric softener. In the meantime, Steve locks himself into his room and sighs, running both of his hands in his hair.

"What is wrong with you, Harrington?!" he whispers to himself while cursing internally.

Something weird is happening with him. Within him. The spreading of an unfamiliar warmth throughout his body, a sting shooting through his limbs to his fingertips. And a craving for touch and affection.

For a moment, he thinks that he's going crazy from being alone for so long, for not having had a decent relationship since Nancy, two years ago. Snogging at Skull Rock is behind him, replaced by an uncertain routine, torn between work, loneliness, the will to help at the shelter and his attempts at maintaining his friendships.

Yeah, that must be it.

Sensing a tightening feeling, he gazes down at his pants, immediately covering his crotch with both of his hands.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

He paces around in search of something that could help him, despite his knowledge that nothing can. Fumbling with the buttons of his jeans, he pulls them down as soon as they are undone and tosses them onto his chair.

A knock on the door stops him in his tracks.

"You okay in there, Harrington?"

Fuck.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. I'll be there in a sec."

"No need to fix your hair, you'll be soaked soon. Unless you want me to go buy you a swimming cap with little flowers on it?"

Steve lets out his best fake laugh as he takes off his shirt. Left in his stiff underwear, he pulls the drawer open and grabs plain light blue shorts, wishing that he had a newer and more flattering pair.

He slips it on and gazes at his reflection in the window, turning to each side. Not better. At all.

"You can go downstairs and grab yourself a drink," he shouts. "I took out some water bottles. Otherwise help yourself in the fridge. I'll be right there."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. My, um… my shorts don't quite fit."

What an understatement.

"I'm looking for something else, but my drawer's a mess."

"Okay. Well, I'll be downstairs, then."

Steve pricks up his ears for Eddie's footsteps, following them as they fade towards and down the stairs. Sighing in relief, he stares back at his reflection.

He needs to find a solution.

Once downstairs, Eddie finds Steve's towel and the two water bottles carefully placed on the entrance furniture. He grins but leaves them there, his attention caught by family pictures on the walls. He tiptoes to them and gazes in awe at the captured moments in Steve's childhood.

On the first one, his parents sit side by side, their torsos tilted inwards, with their toddler sitting on their knees, all smiles despite his parents' serious expression. Back then, Steve already displayed a thick mass of chestnut brown hair, falling across his forehead as his eyes sparkled.

Another shows him standing next to another child, sitting on the ground and holding his shinbones. Steve's hair is combed to the side while his arm is wrapped around the head of the older boy. His torso tilted towards him, he flashes a shy smile at the camera, his plump fist holding a toy Eddie can't quite identify.

Behind him the stairs begin to crack as Steve comes down from his room in his shorts. When he finds his guest staring at his childhood pictures, he can't help but feel embarrassed by them. He comes to stand next to Eddie, gazing at the same picture.

"That's my cousin, James," he says softly, guessing the question ticking over in his mind. "That was before my mom cut ties with her brother."

"What happened?"

"Family feuds she doesn't want to talk about. I don't even know what happened. I think it had something to do with him stealing money from my grand-parents."

"Shit."

Eddie pivots on his heels and smiles at him.

"You were a cute kid, though."

Steve's eyelids flutter as his pupils set upon his friend's lips, probably longer than they ever should. It was a view he begins to grow truly fond of, Eddie Munson smiling. He likes the way the bags under his eyes puff up and their corners wrinkle. His favorite detail about it all is how the folds in his cheeks form dimples behind them, like ripples on the surface of a calm lake.

"Thanks."

The two beam at each other for a little while, until they both come to realize how long they remained silent. Steve clears his throat and points his thumb towards the back door.

"Pool?"

"Let's go."

Steve picks up the other towel and the bottles, showing his guest the way to the backyard. He slides the large glass door open, stepping aside to let Eddie go out first. When he does, he throws glances full of admiration everywhere.

"Woah."

"I just need to take off the tarp and we're good to go. I checked the temperature earlier."

"Need a hand?"

Without waiting for his host's answer, Eddie rushes up to the tarp floating upon the chlorinated water and stretched on all sides by chords attached to pegs planted into the grounds. He watches him taking it off on the other side and mirrors his movements until he can see the bright turquoise bottom of the pool.

Tossing the tarp onto the lounge chairs on the side, Steve plunges his hand into the water, looking up as he focuses on the temperature.

"Should be good enough. Tell me if it's too cold."

Eddie tests it too, sighing in relief he doesn't suspect he could feel at the touch.

"No, it's perfect."

He wipes his hand on the towel hanging at his waist and pulls it off, folding it back and laying it down on another open chair. He stands there, wrapping his arms around himself, not daring to step in first, waiting for an invitation from his host.

Steve shuffles to the ladder and steps down into the water, pushing himself under it as soon as his legs are fully submerged. Eddie watches him with a hand covering his face, hiding the grin he can't seem to fight against. Moving without his own accord, he joins his friend in the water, flinching at first when its freshness brushed past his stomach. Holding his breath in and squeezing his eyes shut, he ducks and kicks his leg to get away from the steps, soothed by the pressure slowing down his every move.

When his head breaks through the surface, his long dark hair flattens around it, framing his face and its extremities bobbing around, still submerged. With only his eyes and the top of his scalp in the open air, Steve admires the way he wipes the water out of his eyes, gasping for air.

"Damn, haven't been at a pool in ages," Eddie comments.

"You're welcome to use ours anytime," Steve grins, pulling his nose and mouth out. "Actually, if you ever feel like coming to a quieter place, you can let me know. My parents are here for maybe five days a month, I really don't think they'll mind."

"Thanks, but I can't accept."

"Why not?"

Eddie swims up to Steve, holding on to the edge and pressing his back against it, stretching his legs out. He stares at his own toes, searching for his words.

"I don't want to be a bother," he mumbles. "I've been one my whole life. Always in trouble for everything. Well, I didn't really help that. But I've already been a burden to you and the others ever since Chrissy's murder."

Frowning in disbelief, Steve puts a hand on Eddie's shoulder.

"Hey, why are you saying that? You've never been a burden to us. We came to help you. We chose to. And to be fully honest with you, I'm glad we did."

"Are you?"

"Of course! Do you know how much energy it takes to be babysitting these little shits and deal with Robin's shenanigans?" Steve laughs. "I like hanging out with you. You're fun. And I have the feeling that I can be honest when you're around, that I don't need to keep things to myself until I burst."

Without any warning, Eddie jumps into Steve's arms, wrapping his own around him and staring at the ripples of light upon the water. His host grins, reciprocating the gesture.

"I feel the same way," Eddie whispers. "To be honest, if I didn't have you at the shelter and as a late night call, I don't think I would've made it. I would've gone bonkers."

"Me too. I mean, coming to the shelter and going to get midnight slushies."

The two laugh and part from each other. Eddie scratches the back of his head.

"Sorry about the hug. I just…"

"You don't need to say anything. Don't worry about that."

"Okay. Thanks."

The pair spends about an hour swimming and joking around in the pool, splashing and climbing onto each other's shoulders. Both forget about the outside world, forming their own bubble away from the loneliness and the struggles they have to deal with. Rather relieved about it, they're submerged by the same feeling they felt on that night away at the 7-Eleven. A feeling of having found their safe space with someone they are comfortable to be around. More than comfortable, even.

Steve fetches beer from the kitchen, bringing the ice cold bottles to the pool. As he floats up to Eddie, he hands him one of them. Without a word, the latter uses his thumb ring to pop the caps open, a proud look marking his traits. Then, they both drag themselves out of the water and sit on the concrete edge, wagging their legs into the pool.

Clinking their bottles together, they bring the necks to their mouths and sip the foam bubbling at the top, enjoying the warmth of the sun embracing their faces. Steve clears his throat and looks down at his knees, mentally counting the few mosquito bites upon his thighs.

"Can I tell you something?"

Eddie grins.

"Of course."

"It's the first time that I'm swimming in this damn pool in three whole years."

"Really?! How?"

Steve's expression darkens as his mind wanders away against his own will.

"We told you about Barb, right?"

"You mean Wheeler's friend?"

"Yeah," Steve breathes out. "She was taken here. In our pool. By Vecna, I suppose. I never told Nancy this, but I've been incapable of even approaching it ever since I understood what happened."

"But it wasn't your fault. It was out of your control."

"It was. We should've stayed with her, she wouldn't have been taken. But I was an absolute douchebag. I just wanted Nancy for myself. So I took her upstairs."

"Is… that going where I think this is going?"

Steve chuckles and nods. Eddie scoffs and gulps some beer.

"I knew you had to have a bit of douchery in you. Meant to be."

"Hey!" his friend protests, opening his arms. "I'm telling you something serious!"

"I know, Harrington, I know. But hey, don't be so hard on yourself. You were just a kid having fun with his girlfriend. It's normal."

"I don't know, man. I should've been nicer, told Nance to stay with Barb. The Hollands lost their daughter because of me."

"Because of Vecna. He waited for an opening to snatch her away. And you couldn't just stay with her all the time, even if you knew."

Steve shrugs and chugs his beer in just a few gulps, under Eddie's surprised eye. Once the icy liquid flows down his throat, he lets out a sigh.

"Steve, seriously, are you okay?"

Startled by Eddie's voice pronouncing his first name instead of his surname, Steve blushes and avoids looking at him, biting the inside of his lip. A light breeze blows around them, chilling him to the bone. As he shivers, Eddie puts his beer to the side and stands up. Picking up the towel from one of the chairs, he comes back to his friend and wraps it around his shoulders, earning a grin from him.

"Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Eddie sips his drink while swinging his foot in the water.

"You know it was just a joke, huh? I don't think you're a douche. I've already told you as much in the Upside Down."

"I know," Steve smiles, staring down at his fingers, scratching off a piece of skin. "You know, I… I think you're the one who should've been told this first. I don't think you're a bad person either. Don't think you've ever been. People in this town have been too quick to judge you."

"Can't blame them. I've done some shady shit. Ruined others, or at least helped."

"Of course the drug dealing thing is… well. You know. But some people don't have anything else. There were moments in the past few weeks where I wished I at least had that."

"You don't mean it, Steve."

His host diverts his gaze, focusing on the crumpled tarp and the way the late afternoon sun illuminates it. Something closes around his hand, drawing him back to the conversation with a start. As his eyes trace down his own arm, he sees what it is.

Eddie's hand.

Red tints every inch of his skin, even places he didn't suspect he could blush in. His breath grows labored as pressure builds up in his chest. He wants to do something. Anything. But he doesn't want to be too presumptuous, to make a move he might regret.

"Have you felt this way before?" Eddie inquires with insistance, concern washing over him.

"What way?" Steve gulps, forgetting how bad he is at hiding his emotions. What if he saw? Did he understand what was going on? What should he say if he did?

"The drugs. How long have you felt this way?"

Relief shoots through his veins, easing the burning within him and making him forget about it for a second.

"Not long. It wouldn't even last more than a few hours at a time. Don't worry."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I got better. I did find something better."

"What was it?"

Steve chews on his bottom lip. He said too much. But he knows the answer, as confusing and upsetting it sounds to him. The only way to calm this odd craving he began to feel wasn't to sink into alcohol instead, or start excessively exercising. It was more of a new light, something he'd never tried before. A comforting yet stinging feeling he couldn't quite explain until today.

Eddie was his solace. Spending time with him, chitchatting, slurping slushies in the late hours surrounded by the intoxicating fumes of gas puddles, or doing Spanish homework even out of high school. All these instants are precious to him. Snaps of time he wouldn't trade for anything.

But he can't say it. It's too risky. He hasn't figured it out himself. Was there even something to figure out?

Maybe it will fade in a few days, he thinks. He's never felt that way, so why now?

Instead, he shrugs and grins.

"Helping at the shelter. It helped me forget, somehow, which is weird, because we're the only ones truly knowing why you're all there in the first place and we can't say a thing. We have to play stupid."

"I feel ya."

Above them, the sun retreats behind the clouds, its rays struggling to pierce through them and warm the earth. Steve nods towards the house, silently asking Eddie if he wishes to head back inside. Eddie tilts the bottle, emptying the gold liquid into his throat before standing back up, reaching out to help his friend up. Drying his legs with the towel he fetches from the chair, he then steps back inside, huddled in it while his hair began to retrieve its natural curls.

His host brings him to one of the bathrooms upstairs, shows him the soap and shampoo before handing him a clean towel. When he announces that he is going to take a shower in another bathroom and closes the door, Eddie's heart sinks in his chest. He turns to the mirror and stares at his own reflection, watching his smile fade from his cheeks. When he feels a prickle in his eye, he unties the string at the front of the shorts to let them slip to his ankles and steps into the bathtub, pulling the curtain.

Walking to the downstairs bathroom, clutching clean clothes under his arm, Steve is in the same state. Seized by melancholia and a pain he's doing his best to ignore. As soon as the door is locked behind him, tears stream down his face as he buries it into his hands. He tries to regain his composure to no avail, deciding instead to undress and step into the shower and turning the water on to cover his crying.

A few minutes later, once the redness and the puffiness are gone, Steve leaves the bathroom to find a fully dressed Eddie waiting patiently at the top of the stairs. His heart begins to race at his sight.

"You didn't have to wait here," he speaks softly. "You could've gone to the living room and watch TV, or get yourself something to drink."

"I didn't want to be rude. And I didn't mind."

"Okay. Do you want to eat already?"

"Actually, yeah, if that's okay with you. Swimming got me hungry."

"Sure. Pizza?"

Eddie nods with a tilt of his head, letting his hair drip onto his clothes. Endeared by the view, Steve beckons him over to the kitchen. There, he hands his guest another bottle of beer and grabs the menu of the pizza place from above the fridge and hands it to him, asking him to at least have a look. Drooling at all the options, they choose to share the pizzas they order. They spend their waiting chatting about school and wondering how Robin's date with Vickie was going. When at last the pizzas come, they drop onto the couch and split the pizzas, eating with relief, filling their stomachs and their hearts with joy.

Hours of talking later, Eddie glances towards the clock above the TV and sighs.

"As much as I love being here, I'm afraid it's time for me to head back. I'm tired as hell and my uncle's gonna freak out."

Steve nods and stands up, readjusting the hem of his shirt as he looks for his car keys. In the entrance, he picks up Eddie's vest while the latter laces up his shoes. As he turns towards him, he notices the gloom in his eyes and the dark veil covering his face. Without needing to hear his words, Steve understands that Eddie doesn't want to go back.

"Eddie?" he calls out. "You don't have to go back if you don't want to."

"What do you mean?"

"Would you like to stay over for the night? You can call your uncle to let him know."

"I don't want to take over your space."

"You won't. We have an extra bedroom just for you."

Eddie grins and nods. Keeping his shoes on, he walks over to Steve's phone, dialling the number of the shelter. In the meantime, Steve runs upstairs to make the bed in the guest room, smiling from ear to ear and trying to keep himself from jumping up and down with excitement. He hears his guest's voice echoing throughout the empty house, which doesn't feel as empty after all. For once, he's happy to be there, not alone, and glad to have found the courage to use the pool again.

In spite of the guilt of the night of Barb's disappearance gnawing at him, it felt easy plunging into the fresh water with Eddie, laughing and joking around the way he used to.

As he fluffs the pillow and sets it down at the head of the bed, Eddie appears behind him, inhabited by the same excitement.

"Wayne said yeah!"

Their palms meet in a high five and Eddie grabs the blanket, slipping it inside the sheets without being asked. Once the bed is made, he rests his hands onto his hips and grins.

"Thank you for letting me stay, Harrington. I'll make it up to you one day."

"It's nothing. I'm just glad you're here. Plus, how long has it been since you've slept in a quiet place?"

"Forever!"

They laugh and Steve points at Eddie's torso.

"Do you need to borrow a shirt or anything else?"

"Nah, it's okay. Unless… that's bothering you?"

"Whatever's comfortable for you."

"Okay, then."

Within seconds, his host brings him a striped shirt, freshly folded from the dryer before picking him up at Hawkins High. Without waiting for him to go, he takes his own off, baring his chest again. As he takes the shirt from Steve's hands, he feels the fabric under his thumbs.

"Thanks, Harrington. For everything."

"Thank you for today. I'm happy you came."

"Me too. Can't repeat often enough how much of a good dude you are." He pauses before speaking again, adding something he wishes he didn't mention. "I hope Wheeler realises that."

"Actually…"

Steve leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

"She and Jonathan broke up."

"No fucking way."

A throbbing pain spreads in Eddie's heart at the information. He wishes he didn't feel so sad upon hearing it, but there he is.

"Wow," is all he can add.

"Yeah. Won't do anything about it, though. She doesn't need me going after her after just standing up for herself and deciding to go to Boston."

"Why don't you go to Boston too to make it work?"

Steve furrows his brows as he processes Eddie's question. Somehow this wasn't a solution he even considered.

"I don't have the cash."

"Oh come on, your parents can help you!"

"That's the thing, they don't want to. Why do you think I'm working at Family Video, out of all places? And Scoops Ahoy before that? I don't know what I want to do, so they make me pay the price for it. What would I do in Boston? Work at the same place but in the city? No. That's not good enough for Nance. I'm not good enough for Nance. She deserves someone who knows what he wants."

"Steve, if you explain to your parents what your plan is, I'm sure they'll help you. At least talk to Nancy about it and ask your folks. Who knows how it might work out? You might end up marrying her and getting your six nuggets!"

The crease in Steve's forehead grows deeper.

"How do you know about that?"

"Heard ya. In the van."

Eddie gulps and sits down on the bed, surprised by its softness. He bounces on it for a second until his body stabilizes. Although he usually would comment on it, blurt out how fancy the mattress was, he can't bring himself to. He feels his heart breaking little by little, the crack widening and spreading as he pictures the many ways Steve can escape his boring life if he just dared ask for help or actually dared speak to Nancy. He would be stuck in Hawkins, whether at a shelter, a trailer, or maybe even in prison, for the rest of his life. Maybe a drunk, a drug addict, on his own and dying alone without anyone caring.

Above all, he realizes that it's not his inability to leave Hawkins that hurts, but the fact that there is no place for him in Steve's future.

Before the tears welling up in his eyes become too obvious, he shakes his head and fixes his gaze on the shirt he's still holding.

"You should go to sleep. I'm tired."

Steve nods and waits there for him to speak again, but as silence settles between them, he clears his throat and croaks.

"G'night."

Closing the door behind him, he shuffles to his own bedroom and prepares himself for bed.

Eddie switches off the light and kicks off his pants and socks. Left in his underwear, he pulls off the bedsheets and slithers underneath, pressing Steve's shirt to his face as he bursts into tears. Lying in the dark, he buries his face into the fabric, inhaling his friend's perfume. He brings his knees close to his chest, his body seized by tremors, muffling his sobs as the realization of his feelings for his friend dawns upon him.

As for Steve, he lays awake in the comfort of his own bed, wondering why Eddie pushed him away so suddenly. They weren't arguing, after all. He turns to his side and covers his mouth with his sheet, curling his fingers against it. Thought spiral inside his head, replaying flashes of moments spent with Eddie. The drive, the shelter, the pool, the swim shorts. Something inside him is shifting, but he can't grasp it.

He loves girls, and he knows it. There was never any doubt about it. He's loved Nancy fiercely, accepting to be on the sideline for her own happiness despite the raging ache it brought him. All the dates he went on with other young women happened because he was attracted to them. So why this confusion?

Reminding himself of the cloud veiling Eddie's eyes back in the guest room, he feels a pinch in the heart. He should've been a better friend and asked him what was wrong. Eddie's been by his side for weeks, listening to his ranting about Nancy and about feeling out of place within his own home. There's little that Robin knows about him that Eddie doesn't also know. He's been an unfailing support through and through, and at the first sign of sadness, he left him.

Steve wants to apologize, but perhaps he's sleeping. He doesn't want to interrupt the first time in months that Eddie can sleep in a comfortable bed in a quiet place. Instead, he pushes off the cover and walks up to the door, wanting to fetch the water bottles he took out earlier that they never even touched.

After retrieving them from the terrace and while tiptoeing in the corridor to his room, he hears sniffles coming from the guest room. With a frown, he approaches the door ever so slowly, pricking up his ear to any sound coming from inside. Perhaps it was just a snore, perhaps he misheard.

When the sniffle resounds again, he curls a finger and gently knocks his knuckle against the door.

"Eddie? Are you okay?"

Hurried movement fill the room as Eddie rushes to put on Steve's shirt, pretending to have worn it since Steve left the room. He wipes the tears away with his forearm, grabs the tissues on the nightstands and blows his nose. His host waits patiently outside, inhabited by sheer panic and concern.

Eddie jumps onto his feet and shuffles up to the door without opening it.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he croaks, wiping his nose with his wrist.

"Are you sure? I heard you sniffling."

"I promise."

"You know that if something's going on, you can tell me, right? I'm here for you."

He pauses, wrapping his arms around himself as he presses the back of his head against the door. Should he tell Steve about the feelings he's been having?

Deciding not to in fear of his friend not understanding and in fear of losing him, he shakes his head and opens the door. He finds himself only inches away from Steve's face, reading the worry fixed on his traits. He hates being the cause of it.

"You've been crying," Steve murmurs with a crack in his voice. "What's going on? Did I say something that hurt you?"

"No, no, none of that," he replies with a shy grin. "It's just that with all the things, the moment I found myself alone — really alone — it all got out. Nothing to worry about."

"Are you sure?"

"Again, I promise."

Before Eddie closes the door, Steve stretches his hand out, anticipating it to meet with the cold wood. Instead it only meets air, sensing the heat emanating from Eddie's chest. Although he craves flattening his fingers against it, he pulls it away, clearing his throat.

"If you prefer, you can come sleep in my room. But I get it if you prefer staying alone."

"I don't want to disturb you, Harrington."

"You won't. I'm offering."

"Okay. Yeah, I'd like that."

With a smile, he slips his hand into Steve's, pretending not to notice the rosy hues tinting his cheekbones. He follows him to his room and closes the door behind them. As he sits on the floor, Steve chuckles and tugs on his wrist, putting down the bottles on the bed.

"I didn't mean you sleeping on the floor. You can sleep on the bed."

"Oh, okay."

Eddie lets him pull him up to his feet. They hold their breaths, staring into each others' eyes as they hold the other's forearms. Their racing hearts slam against their sternum so hard they swear they could hear them singing in tune. The corners of Steve's mouth stretch into a smile as wrinkles form around his eyelids, his teeth digging into his lower lip. Eddie beams in turn, letting out a light chuckle.

Steve takes a first step in his direction, but the gesture startles him. As Eddie steps back in surprise, his friend clears his throat and lets go of his arms, pointing at the bed instead.

"Bed? Yeah. Big… blanket. Covers us both."

His guest laughs and nods before sneaking under the sheets next to him, their shoulders touching as they lay on their backs. Both stare at the ceiling, silent as a grave. While Steve curses himself for stepping forward, Eddie mentally scolds himself for pulling away.

There's no more doubt about it. They like each other. A bit more than they expected.

Steve kicks one of the bottles at his foot back into his hands, impressing the other young man. He hands it to him with a grin.

"Water?"

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks."

Steve unscrews the cap and sits up to drink half of it, before setting it down on his nightstand. Slipping back under the cover, he lays on his left shoulder, finding himself face to face with Eddie, laying on his right side as a soft snore whistles between his parted lips.

His expression seems peaceful. The calmest he's ever seen him. Tracing the outline of his body, Steve's eyes glimmer as he suppresses yet another smile, watching his torso move up and down with every breath he takes. Noticing a strand of hair across Eddie's face, he brushes it away with his fingertips, as lightly as he can, stroking his cheek with his thumb while at it. Retracting his hand as soon as the hair is tucked between his ear, he brings the sheets against his face and closes his eyes, falling soon enough into a deep slumber.

Pretending to sleep to avoid an awkward exchange after Steve's gesture, Eddie opens one eye, grinning from ear to ear. He discreetly shuffles closer to him, nearly nestling against his chest. As his eyelid shuts again, he feels an arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him in.

Huddled against the boy he's falling in love with, Eddie spends the best night he's had in years.