"Yes, perfect! Thank you, see you next week!"
Steve hangs up the phone with a broad smile on his face, scribbling some information on his notebook. He flips the page of the newspaper sent to him by his uncle Christian, settled in Attleboro, Massachusetts, reading the rental offers in and around Boston. Having spent his entire morning examining all the offers in the entire pile he received the previous day and calling the numbers attached, he finally manages to set up an appointment for a visit, most of the previous options either not fitting or having been rented in the meantime.
Obtaining the offers in the first place was a child's play. Knowing that his parents would never allow him to go to Boston and spend some time there by himself, he called his uncle one afternoon from the shelter, having hastily written his number down from his mother's personal phonebook before she left for work. Using his sweetest tone, he begged him to send him whole newspapers from the Boston area, claiming that it would help Dustin with one of his school presentations. He was fully aware that Christian Harrington would rat out his true purpose to his father if he was honest with him.
Calling the numbers on the offers, however, turned out more frustrating than he first thought. For a moment, he forgot how big Boston is, picturing his small town's mentality and way of living being a standard there, too. When the ten first landlords and agencies hung up after refusing him even as much as a visit, he lowered his standards and broadened his criteria, realizing that he could not afford being picky. It took him another eight tries to land an appointment for the next week.
And he thought of the perfect plan. Having repeated that he felt like going camping to his parents, whom he knew wouldn't show even the slightest hint of interest, he made up a camping trip plan with Robin, Dustin and Eddie, whom they had no chances of running into. In the meantime, he took days off work, negotiating extra shifts later on with Keith and booked a moldy room at a motel around Boston.
Satisfied and rather proud of his strategy, he realizes that having Nancy and Dustin in his life has more perks than he originally figured.
Sipping his lukewarm glass of water, he tilts his head back and stretches his arms with a groan. As he stands up to grab a pack of chocolate chip cookies, the phone begins to ring behind him. He picks up the receiver and sticks it against his ear, slightly irritated that his break is cut short before it even begins. But it could be a call from Massachusetts, he couldn't just let it ring for nothing.
"Steve Harrington speaking," he introduces in his most refined tone after clearing his throat.
Nobody speaks back at first. He only hears heavy breathing, interrupted by wet sniffles. As his brow furrows in both confusion and concern, his other hand closes around the receiver as he turns around.
"Hello?"
"Steve?"
Eddie's voice reaches him in a muffled croak, seized by tremors. Stretching the cable at its maximum as he dashes into the corridor of his home, dragging his sneakers over to him with the tip of his toe, Steve feels a lump in his throat, his heart shattering at the sound of his crying.
"Eddie? What's going on? Is everything okay?" he nearly shouts. "I'm putting my shoes on, I can be with you within ten minutes."
"If you could come that'd be great," Eddie sniffles. "Don't panic, everything's fine, I just… I need you."
"I'll be right there. Are you at the shelter?"
"Yeah."
"Don't move."
"Okay."
He hangs up and shoves his feet into his shoes, grumbling as the undone laces prevent him from tucking his heels inside. Once they're nestled in the stained Nike sneakers, he darts to the kitchen to gather the newspapers and notebook and hide them under his bed upstairs. Patting his pockets for his car keys, he heads towards the door, neglecting to take a jacket with him and jumps into his car, wasting no time to drive to Hawkins High.
The tires screech on the warm concrete of the parking lot as the BMW comes to a halt. With sweat beading upon his forehead, Steve leaps out, keys in hand, darting towards the shelter, until a silhouette comes into sight in the corner of his eye.
Stepping shyly out of the patch of wood, Eddie wipes a trail of tears from his cheek. Red-faced and with puffy eyes, he waves at Steve, his bottom lip trembling. Without hesitation but with a knot in his stomach, the latter rushes up to him, feeling his heart sink at the sight of Eddie sobbing.
As soon as he is within distance, Steve throws his arms around him, squeezing him tightly against his chest. Eddie's trembling hands hold on to his shirt as he chuckles and sniffs, careful not to stain Steve's yellow shirt with his tears or with his snot. Yet he allows himself to melt against him, breathing in his scent.
"I came as fast as I could," Steve whispers. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Eddie laughs, pulling away to rub his palms against his swollen eyes.
"What's going on, then? You said you needed me."
Eddie reaches for his back pocket, pulling out a folded yellow sheet. He clutches it for dear life, unable to stop his smile from growing across his cheeks.
"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you when I called and that I made you worry," he chuckles once more. "But you're the first person I wanted to tell. Not even Wayne knows. I'll tell him tonight."
His quivering fingers open the card, making the gesture harder than he thought. Once he can see its content in its entirety, he turns it around, showing it to Steve, feeling another sob rising in his throat.
"I'm graduating. I made it."
Steve's mouth opens and closes as his widened eyes scan the letters on the card, indicating his grades in each subject. As soon as his brain processes the information, he lets out a shout and jumps into Eddie's arms for another embrace, even tighter than the previous one. When he pulls away, he borrows the paper to have another look, his eyes watering at the news.
"Holy shit, Eddie, congratulations! You finally made it!" he exclaims, taking another look at the table, pointing his finger at it. "And you passed your SATs too!"
"I did! Have you seen my grades?"
Steve nods with obvious enthusiasm, seized by such pride and joy that he feels the need to scream on top of his lungs until he can't speak anymore.
"B+ for math," he begins to recite, "B in reading, A- in writing!"
Without thinking, he slips his hand into Eddie's, ignoring the redder hues coloring his cheeks and nose. Shaking his head, he sighs and draws in a sharp breath right away, holding the letter out.
"Fuck, man, I'm so proud of you!" he chimes. "I knew you could do it!"
"Vickie's tutoring worked wonders," Eddie laughs, retrieving the paper from his friend. "I can't believe that my grades are so high!"
"You're a smart guy, Eddie. You learn faster than you think."
Squeezing his hand, Eddie beams at him with a relief he has rarely ever felt in the past. It washes over him like a fresh wave in the midst of heat, prickling the hair on his forearms and the back of his neck. His heart races — doubling its pace with Steve holding his hand — and his stomach finds itself invaded by a horde of colorful butterflies.
In this instant, nothing else matters. Nothing bad can happen to him. The world seems so beautiful, even dull Hawkins, the city which hated him with a passion and which he can now leave with peace of mind.
His happiness is such that he could kiss Steve here and there and not care about the consequences. God knows how much he's been craving it, wondering how soft his lips are, whether his kisses are gentle or hungry, how the trail of saliva his tongue would leave on his taste. Would he bury his fingers in his curls? Would he hold on to him, pressing his chest against his? Would he cling to his shirt or place his hands on his hips, pulling him even closer?
He shakes his head, getting it rid of the thoughts as they invade him with a warmer feeling he knows to be only superficial. Steve smiles at him and starts jumping up and down, letting go of his hand to point his fingers at him.
"Okay, okay," he starts gasping, "stay right here. I need to do something. I'll pick you up as soon as I'm done, okay?"
"What are you gonna do?" Eddie asks, folding his arms with a raised eyebrow, amused by the urgency in Steve's voice.
"I'm not telling you yet, you have to see it first! Okay, I'll be back in what, twenty, twenty-five minutes? Is that good? Do you need to be somewhere else?"
"No."
"Good."
Steve jumps one last time, snapping his fingers. He steps forward to peck Eddie's cheek before darting towards his car. With a chortle, Eddie watches the BMW race out of the parking lot before heading back to the picnic table in the forest to wait while listening to music on Max's Walkman.
About half an hour later, he sees Steve enter the woods again, holding a bandana in his closed fist. Beaming at him, Eddie stands back up and approaches him.
"So, that's the surprise you've got for me?" he teases. "A bandana?"
"Don't be a party pooper, Eddie," Steve laughs as he passes him by, standing in his back and throwing the folded bandana around his eyes.
"Fuck, Harrington, what on earth are you doing? Ow!"
"Sorry. It's a surprise, you can't know yet. It's not much, it might disappoint you. If it does, I'm sorry, I got the idea a few days ago, but I didn't really take the time to prepare it better. But I thought it would be nice, but if you don't like it at all, just say it and I —"
"Harrington," Eddie laughs, finding his nervousness endearing, "you're rambling on."
"Sorry."
Steve makes sure that the black bandana entirely clouds his vision, holding up his fingers in front of him. When he's certain that he can't see, he rushes up to the picnic table to gather Eddie's belongings, before linking arms with him to guide him to the BMW. Sitting him down on the passenger's seat, he puts the lunchbox and the Walkman on Eddie's lap and closes the door, dashing to the other side to start the car.
As they begin to drive away from Hawkins High, Eddie raises an eyebrow, unsettled by the lack of landmarks to help him guess where he is.
"I hope it's a bunch of strippers just for me," he teases, "otherwise I want to know none of it."
"Then I'm sorry, we have to head back," Steve responds with a laugh. "It's not much, but I'll make it up to you later, I promise."
"Whatever you've thought of, I'm sure I'll love it."
A wide smile creeps upon Steve's face as he focuses on the road before him, feeling his heart slam against his ribs. Exhilarated by the feeling, he needs to refrain from exceeding the speed limit, burning to see Eddie's reaction to what he's prepared.
A few minutes later, the engine of the BMW begins to purr as pebbles crunch under the tires. When it stops altogether, silenced by the switching off of the ignition, Steve helps Eddie out of the car and puts the lunchbox and the Walkman in the trunk, swapping them for a boombox. Linking arms with his friend, he guides him forward.
Eddie shudders as his foot meets the base of a hill, his ankle nearly twisting at first. Caught by his friend before he collapses, a nervous laugh rises in his throat, a blend of excitement and intoxication as Steve's fingers close around his waist.
If that's how girls feel when their boyfriend holds them there, he thinks to himself, now he gets why so many love it. With just the power of a touch comes a rush of comfort, trust and confidence. From the way that he's held by the guy he loves, Eddie feels handsome and strong, as though he could bend anything coming his way. Instinctively, he fixes his slouch and keeps his chin high, dying to turn around and plant a kiss on his face, no matter where.
How does Steve even do that?!
The two of them keep climbing the hill, growing out of breath when they hasten their pace in anticipation. When at the top, Steve positions him where he pictured him standing when he thought of the plan and the revelation. At last, when everything is perfect, he holds his breath and nestles his face next to Eddie's while pressing his chest against his back, placing his hands on the young man's hips.
"Ready?" he whispers, the warm air escaping his lips tickling his jaw, driving him crazy without even knowing.
"More than ever."
Steve's fingers begin to untie the knot in the back of his friend's head. Clenching his fists and rolling back on his heels, Eddie exhales slowly, feeling his heartbeats maddening. When at last the bandana comes off, blinding him with the light of day at first, he sees a broad blanket spread upon the grass, kept down by a large picnic basket and three small rocks.
On top of the blue and white checkered pattern stands a dark green bottle of sparkling wine, surrounded by Eddie's favorite snacks and foods. From Pop Rocks to cherry tomatoes, from Skittles to Giggle cookies and from Push Pops to Dixie Drumstix, Steve thought of everything. In a portable ice chest, fresh beers and sodas are ready to be consumed, buried into a bed of ice cubes he poured from a bag.
A few feet away stands Cerebro, Dustin's ham radio, overlooking the green landscape and its towering trees.
Flabbergasted by the view, Eddie's mouth open and closes as he searches for the words that can truly express how he feels. Overwhelmed by emotion, he rubs his nose with his wrist, a sting in his eye warning him of the upcoming tears.
"Do you like it?" Steve asks with an anxious smile, his hands pointing at the picnic setup.
"Like it?"
Eddie laughs, letting the tears flow freely and covering his mouth with a lock of his hair. Shaking his head, he tries to process what he sees, gasping and sighing in turn. He pivots on his ankle with a shrug, his hair falling back down upon his collar bone.
"Steve, I love it!"
Steve's eyes nearly roll back into his head with intense relief while drooping his shoulders. He doesn't even realize how much tension he gathered there until he relaxes.
"Oh thank God."
With a broad grin fixed upon his face, Eddie steps forward, admiring the setup once more. Everything he loves is there. Maybe not everyone, but the most important one is. And he went through all this trouble just for him.
"This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," he intones. "Nobody's ever bothered that much to surprise me."
"Really?"
"Really."
Steve invites him to sit with a hand between his shoulder blades. Flipping the picnic basket open, he takes out two glasses and shows him the wine.
"My mom allowed me to take that bottle from her stock," he chuckles, putting the boombox down and sitting beside it. "I wanted to mark the occasion properly."
"Well, you've got talent for throwing surprises, I have to say. Didn't know you had this in you."
Blushing from all the compliments, Steve rips off the capsule of the wine bottle. Untwisting the cage, he begins to squint, pointing the neck away from his friend as he tilts it with a firm grasp on the cork. With a vociferous pop, the cork leaves its nest, followed by a flow of bubbly liquid. Eddie jumps onto his stomach, holding one of the glasses out as to not waste any drop of the precious beverage.
Once the drink stops spouting from the neck, Steve fills in the glasses properly before leaving the bottle aside. Holding his flute by the stem, he clinks it against Eddie's, all smiles at the thought of being cared for in this way. They stare into each other's eyes, enjoying the moment.
"To your graduation," Steve's melodious voice reaches him, tinted by obvious affection. "I'm so incredibly proud of you and who you are."
"Thanks, Harrington. Sorry I started crying, didn't wanna make you uncomfortable."
"You didn't. You never do."
They raise their glasses and bring them to their lips, dipping them into the sour liquid. Eddie lets the flavor wrap itself around his tongue, surprising at first, but somehow satisfying as it cascades down his throat. Clicking his lips with his eyebrows raised, he begins to nod.
"That tastes amazing," he gasps. "I've been missing out all those years."
"My mom didn't allow me to drink any until I was about sixteen," Steve recollects. "Family reunions only, though. Otherwise, any drop of alcohol is a pure no-no."
"Has it truly stopped you, though?"
"Absolutely not."
Sharing a laugh, they take another sip of wine, admiring the landscape around them. While Eddie is focused on it, Steve slips a hand inside his pocket to take out a thick unmarked envelope folded in two. He holds it up, catching his attention back.
"Listen, Eddie, um… I know that you won't like it, that you'll feel guilty as fuck, but it's a gift from me for your graduation. Not a bother at all, it doesn't put me in any misery, so no guilt allowed."
"Uh, okay?"
Steve hands it to him, clutching the glass in his other hand. While watching Eddie open it, he hides his face behind the flute, his face heating up and flushing red. The metalhead's fingertips brush past a bunch of smaller rectangular papers inside, with a recognizable green hue.
"Steve…"
"Before you say anything," he interrupts, wishing that his heartbeat would calm down, "I started collecting some of this money after the gates opened and we knew that your trailer collapsed in them. I donated some useful things from my old stuff and I sold the rest to put the money aside for you."
Bringing his knee up, he rests his cheek on it, avoiding Eddie's gaze.
"And because you kept saying that you were fine, that you didn't need to buy new stuff for yourself, I didn't give it to you right away. Then I thought that it could become a graduation present. So I kept selling some stuff, also from my parents, and I put a small percentage of my salary aside on the same fund. I said it's from me, but everybody, except Max, contributed by giving me things they didn't want or need so that the money I made from selling them could be put aside for you. Robin, Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Erica, Nancy and even Vickie. They all participated. And now is the day you get all of it."
"How much is in there?" Eddie's voice sounds, unsure and embarrassed.
"1500 dollars."
"Fuck."
Pressing his middle finger between his brows, Eddie tilts his head down, trying to regain his composure. Steve pulls his leg closer and smiles.
"Spare it, spend it, do whatever you want with it. Buy yourself new clothes, new shoes, a new guitar, whatever, maybe buy or rent a new suit for graduation. Or you could save it for community college if you ever find something you like, or stuff for your new home."
Without uttering a word, Eddie encircles him with his arms, burying his face into his collarbone.
"Thank you, Steve," he whispers, muffled by Steve's shirt, feeling tears rushing back. "But I'm warning you: it's the only time I accept it. Only because y'all went through so much trouble for it. Give me another present like that and I'll have to punch you in the face."
"Deal."
He pulls away and drinks some more wine, his eyes unable to leave the mind-blowing amount of money in the envelope. He's never hold that much cash in his hands in his entire life. How many meals could that afford him? How many socks? Could he finally buy a more comfortable mattress?
Sighing, he tucks the envelope inside the picnic basket, patting the lid to remind himself to take it back later. Steve fills up his glass while he's not looking, only noticing when the foam brims over and spills onto his fingers. The two of them share a smile and toast again, taking in the sight as they rest back onto their hands.
"How's the trailer search going for Wayne?" Steve asks between two sips.
"Not too bad, he says. It's just a bit hard to find something around Hawkins right now."
"I get that. And did he manage to get you that job at the plant?"
"He doesn't want me to work there after all. Not because he'd have to put up with me there too," Eddie snorts, "but he said that he doesn't want me to waste my time there and kill myself at work. Said I'd be wasting my potential, which I think is non-existent."
Steve slaps his arm, nearly making him choke on the sparkling liquid.
"Hey, don't say that, Ed! Your report card says otherwise. And I know you well enough, I think, to say that you can do a lot of things. You just need to find what you like. You can take a sabbatical year and then try your luck at college."
"Which I can't afford."
"But your SATs might help, now. Your results are good."
"My GPA is a bit behind, though. Hardly got a pass, just got lucky that the 'earthquake' gave all of us some sympathy points."
"Fuck that," Steve hisses. "Listen, why don't you try your luck at a job in the city? Not Hawkins, but Indianapolis, for instance? You can either commute for two hours a day, or rent a room there. Maybe you'll find yourself liking whatever you find."
"I wish, but I'm gonna wait. Can't leave Wayne alone, man."
Eddie chugs the wine and puts the glass down. His fingers hover over the rows of snacks until they settle upon the Dixie Drumstix. As he tugs on the plastic to open the bag, he tilts his head towards Steve.
"I am gonna look for a job in the city, though. Best option I've got so far," he notes. "But I'd like to save up to move away at some point. When I know that Wayne's in a better place, y'know? He's lost everything too, even more than I did."
"I understand. That's what makes you a good dude," Steve smiles, throwing the snacks Eddie hands him into his mouth. Enjoying the curious taste that the chicken-flavored chips leave on his tongue, he closes his eyes for a moment until they begin their descent to his stomach. "Hey, in a perfect world, where money just doesn't matter and isn't a problem, where there are no murderous beasts feasting on your traumas, what do you picture your life to be like?"
Running his tongue across his teeth to remove some crumbs stuck in between, Eddie furrows his brow and gazes up at the sky. While the clouds pass in silence, carried away by the soft late spring breeze, pictures and ideas flash in his head, supported by the longings and the excitement he carries within his heart.
"I think I'd always wanna be on the move," he speaks softly, his eyelids shutting while his lips stretching into a satisfied smile, "visiting places I've never seen, crossing borders, traveling to Europe and stuff. But then I'd like to have my house somewhere which I can return to when I need to take a break. Oh, and the house would have a music studio, of course. I'd have an entire record collection. And a dog."
He cracks one eye open to gaze at Steve without him noticing.
"And someone I love by my side."
"Damn, Munson," Steve chuckles, "didn't know you had a romantic side!"
"You'd be surprised, Harrington," he sighs with exaggeration. "I'm a lover, it's just in my nature."
The two young men crack up and keep eating, helping themselves to a drink in the cool box. After sipping some ice-cool beer, Eddie glances at Steve with a grin.
"I guess you would picture yourself in the way you described that dream to Wheeler, huh?"
"Yeah, probably. Settling down in a house with a wife and kids, but traveling around from time to time, too. I wouldn't want to be stuck in the same place forever."
"Hear, hear."
Time flies as the two of them enjoy their afternoon sitting on the grass, listening to music on the boombox and chatting away. While Steve brought cassettes of Eddie's favorite bands and albums, the latter insisted on listening to his friend's music for a change, although honored that he went through such trouble to bring him only the best. Queen, Toto, Tears for Fears, Mike Oldfield, Dire Straits, all of them begin to grow on Eddie, associating them with Steve and engraving this moment in his memory, never wanting to forget this day.
The day he discovered he is finally graduating high school and was surrounded by his friend's affection. For now, he is content with just that. He doesn't need more.
After packing everything when the sun begins to lose its shine, lowering into the whitening sky, Steve and Eddie begin their descent towards the car. They place everything in the trunk, with its owner filling up a used bag with the snacks for Eddie to enjoy or share at the shelter, slipping the envelope inside.
Driving away from Weathertop with Dio's Holy Diver flowing out of the speakers, they sigh in relief, looking at the road before them. Eddie keeps a hand onto his stomach, saturated by food and drinks, intermittently disturbing the music with soft burps. His eyes roll towards Steve, who seems to be in the same state, topped by a hint of drowsiness.
"Harrington?"
His whisper, however softer than the music, catches the driver's attention within a heartbeat. He whips around with a smile, loving to hear his name in Eddie's mouth.
"Mh-mh?"
Eddie sits up, eructing again as he adjusts the seat belt around his torso. Without embarrassment nor fear, he keeps his head turned towards his friend, not wanting to miss his gaze if he faces him again.
"I was thinking," he starts, suddenly a bit unsure, "since every student is entitled to two tickets for the graduation ceremony… I would like you to get my second one, if you're cool with that."
Words float around in his mind, vague yet clear, broad yet small, entangling themselves around each other. He reaches out for the right ones, some he knows he won't regret, desperate to make sense. Silent for a mere second, it feels like an eternity to him.
"With everything you've done for me since I was on the run, I want to thank you in the only way I can. I know I'm not always fun and I can be an ass sometimes. But the fact that you stuck around when you really didn't have to means the world to me. I don't even know how to thank you properly, I'll probably never be able to. But I want you to know that I notice your sacrifices and your efforts. I don't even deserve it one bit, but I don't know what those two months would've been like without you. I'd probably be dead, either in the Upside Down or beaten up by the other seniors."
Stopping at a red light, Steve furrows his brow and eyes the hand resting on Eddie's knee. Extending his own, he lets its warmth enfolding his skin. Aware of how ambiguous it looks, he allows himself to stroke Eddie's wrist with his thumb ever so gently, planting his gaze into his.
"I'd be honored, Eddie," he whispers, carried away by his own emotions. "And I've done all of that because you're worth every minute of it. I don't regret anything."
Shyly smiling back at Steve with his cheeks burning up, Eddie feels a sting in his eyes but fights it. He's cried enough in front of him already.
When the light flicks green, Steve drives away, unable to stop himself from grinning. Something buzzes inside his stomach, different from the aftermath of his bingeing. Pleasant yet painful, a blooming sensation he hasn't felt in years.