Over the next week, Steve and Eddie fell into a routine. The most unlikely roommates, they now moved around each other easily. Steve brought most of his clothes to the cabin and explained to Claudia Henderson that he needed to help out a friend for a bit. He also stocked the kitchen and brought another stack of movies.

In an effort to get the kids through the end of the school year, Hopper and Joyce kept them away from the cabin. They were just two weeks away from finishing the truncated semester, and Steve understood why the parents wanted the kids to at least finish the year. Hopefully, their future wouldn't forever include battles with other-dimensional monsters, and they would need their diplomas. Plus, ditching school implied they might not survive what would come next, and that was too horrible of a thought to consider.

Robin and Nancy stopped by on the following Wednesday evening. They stayed just long enough for Nancy to give a lecture about keeping the place clean, and for Robin to pester Eddie about his new "superpower." He was evasive, claiming he was too weak to try again. Since he was growing stronger every day, even walking on his own, Steve suspected he was still afraid of where the power came from and what having it might mean. Eddie knew enough about what El had been through to be worried.

As they sat together in the living room that night, Steve watched Robin and Eddie. Robin was rambling on about Eddie moving things with his mind. Steve, however, was focused on Eddie's revelation about his sexuality. He knew it shouldn't matter, given all they'd been through together, but Steve was still curious. He'd never given queer people a second thought before Robin. Now, he wanted to say to her and Eddie, "You have something major in common." But he wasn't sure if that was okay. He knew nothing about how queer people communicated. Did they all just…know? Was there a code or something? Did they want to know about each other? Steve had no idea. So they all watched television and then listened as Nancy caught them up on the kids and life in Hawkins. It was the story of a town still reeling, waiting in the calm before what felt like an inevitable storm.

When he and Eddie were alone in the cabin, Steve tried hard to play normal. To not act or react to his new friend the way he imagined his father would. But he wasn't sure what "normal" meant in this situation. So he got dressed in the bathroom after every shower and made himself sleep in pajamas. It was the kind of stuff he imagined he would do if Nancy was staying with him and they were not a couple. Steve had no idea whether it mattered, whether it was helpful or insulting. He was thoroughly out of his element.

In such tight quarters, Steve also couldn't help wondering what Eddie thought of him. He had never knowingly spent time with a homosexual man. He wasn't even sure if that's how Eddie referred to himself.

Does he say queer? Or gay? Should I ask?

Steve thought back over all their interactions. Their conversations. The time Eddie threw him his denim vest:

For your modesty, dude.

Was that an offhand way of saying he found Steve attractive? Distracting? Neither? Should it even matter? Steve had no idea. But it was the kind of thing he often wondered about girls–evaluating their every move, trying to decide if the dynamic was platonic or romantic. Now, he was just inexplicably wondering those things about another guy.

Much of Eddie's behavior, however, was dictated by the fact that he still needed Steve's help. He tired easily if he stood for too long or walked too far. He left the bathroom door open during showers and sometimes needed Steve's help to walk to the bedroom. Regenerating the amount of blood he lost took a long time without the help of a transfusion, even as his external wounds quickly became scars.

Steve couldn't help noticing Eddie was covered in a myriad of other marks, as well. Where Steve's biggest concern during the summer, before the damn bats, was whether to shave his chest, Eddie's body was a road map of a difficult journey. He had at least five tattoos across his wiry frame, and Steve thought at least one of them might be covering a scar. In addition to the collection of freckles across his shoulders, he had what looked like healed burns and other reminders of old injuries across his torso and upper arms. Steve wondered how and why.

By the end of that week, the cabin was starting to feel claustrophobic. Steve could tell Eddie felt the same way, but fear kept them rooted. Eddie didn't want to be on the wrong side of a mob of angry Hawkins residents, and Steve didn't want to leave Eddie alone. He wasn't sure why, but he was developing a fierce protective instinct for anyone who joined his motley "family." And Eddie had a habit of nearly dying. Or actually dying.

On Saturday morning, Steve drove into Hawkins for supplies again. In all the movies he'd ever seen about fugitives, they made it look so exciting. In reality, however, it mostly consisted of watching movies, listening to music, and restocking the groceries. Then again, that seemed to be Steve's default assignment–babysitter.

Coming through the door with several bags, Steve stopped short. Eddie was sitting on the couch intently focused on keeping a fork, a spoon, and a few other household objects hanging about two feet above the coffee table.

Steve set the bags down with a thud and exclaimed, "Oh my god!"

Eddie whipped around, his eyes locking with Steve's. All the objects clattered to the ground. Eddie's eyes were big and full of fear.

"You have been practicing!"

Eddie shook his head fervently. "No. I mean, yes. But…I don't want anyone to know."

"But…why?" Steve was dumbfounded.

Eddie scoffed. "Because of the hive mind! Or whatever it is. You said Will has a part of Vecna in him. He can sense him. You said he took over Will's body! Now I have that shit inside me, too!" He swallowed hard. "What if he finds out? What if Vecna already knows ?"

"Then…there's nothing we can do about that. But if you practice, you can use that power against him!"

Eddie shook his head again. "I already died once, man. That other world is fucking terrifying and I'm not–"

"If you say, 'I'm not a hero' again, I'm gonna punch you."

Eddie looked suddenly taken aback.

Steve went on, "You already are a hero, man. When it came down to it, you took on the bats. Alone. And if your power can help save those kids, make the world safer for them, are you saying you won't try?"

Eddie was silent, and Steve could see him struggling with the answer.

Just then, Hopper came through the front door with a loud clatter and burst of sunlight.

"Delivery service," he grunted as he struggled to close the door while holding a big, cardboard box. He set it down on the coffee table with a sigh of relief.

"What is that?" Steve asked.

Hopper rolled his shoulders. "It's Munson's. When the police searched the trailer after they found the cheerleader dead, they took a bunch of shit as potential evidence. Trying to paint you as a deranged serial killer, kid. I had one of my new FBI buddies 'confiscate' it to my truck."

Eddie slid forward on the sofa and pulled the box closer, the levitating objects forgotten. Pulling open the top, he peered inside. Steve looked closer, as well. It was Eddie's stuff–cassette tapes, dog-eared notebooks, posters, books. Eddie's face was full of surprise.

"Oh." Hopper snapped his fingers. "One more thing."

He turned and left the cabin. When he returned, it took Steve a moment to register what he was carrying. It was a worn guitar case covered in stickers from bands he'd never heard of. Hopper set it on the table, and Eddie stared in shock. After a long silence, Eddie carefully opened the case to reveal his guitar–the red and black one with the funny shape Steve remembered from the Upside Down trailer. Eddie stared at the instrument, his mouth slightly agape.

Hopper cleared his throat. "Figured the least the government could do is give you your shit back. After pinning all this on you."

Steve knew Hopper could be a stubborn asshole, but Joyce was right. There was a heart underneath it.

Eddie lifted the guitar from the case. He held it gently, as though he were afraid it might break. Then, he threw the strap over his head and let it settle against him. His face lit up like he'd found a missing part of himself. Instinctively, his left hand found the frets and his right hand strummed a few chords. Even without an amp, Steve could tell how naturally the music flowed from Eddie.

He looked up and met Hopper's eyes across the coffee table. "Thanks, man."

Hopper shrugged and gave a half smile. "You're not a bad kid, Munson. You just got a shit deal."

They exchanged a long look, and Steve wondered if they were talking about more than the most recent events.

"I think there might be an old amp at my trailer. There's a bunch of stuff my grandfather left in the closet there. He used to play years ago, before he moved out here and left the trailer to my old man. He tried to teach me once, but I was terrible at it."

Eddie chuckled. "Wayne said my mother played pretty well. I have to take his word for it."

Hopper nodded as though he understood. Reaching into the box, he pulled out a few notebooks. "This is the stuff they were really interested in. I'm sorry if they marked up some of it. Apparently, all this dragon stuff is evidence of a delinquent-in-the-making."

They both caught his sarcasm.

Eddie tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. He set the guitar beside him and thumbed through one of the dog-eared notebooks. "These are my campaigns. I already had two more in the works when…" Fear ghosted over his face, and Steve knew he was seeing Chrissy die again.

Steve sat down in the chair across from the sofa. Reaching for one of the notebooks, he asked, "Can I?"

Eddie looked through the stack and handed one over with an impish smile. "This one's already been used. No spoilers."

Steve chuckled and thumbed through it.

"Well," Hopper turned back toward the door, "I'll leave you two with it." Just as he reached the door, he turned back. "Oh, I've got a lead on your uncle. Someone matching his description was seen tacking up posters about you in Rigdon. I'm gonna check it out on Monday."

As Hopper opened the door to leave, Eddie said, "Thanks, man."

They exchanged another look that Steve couldn't quite read, like there was history between them. But Hopper left without saying more.

Steve turned his attention back to the notebook in his hands. While Eddie strummed his guitar again, making a weak, tinny sound with no amp, he looked over the campaign.

Steve had no real understanding of Dungeons and Dragons, but he'd gathered from listening to Dustin go on and on that it involved some fairly complicated fantasy storytelling. Looking at Eddie's notebook, he suddenly understood how complicated it was. The pages were filled with detailed descriptions of something called non-playable characters, complete with sketches. There were also vivid descriptions of settings and plot trees with complex, diverging possibilities. Eddie's slanted handwriting clearly hinted at a creative mind moving far too fast for his pen. Steve had never been that into fantasy, but he was smart enough to understand the difference between an epic story and satanic ritual. And this was clearly the former.

Tucked in the back of the notebook, he found a description of one of Eddie's characters:

A chaotic-good Tiefling whose kindness defies the hatred the world has repeatedly shown him, he protects his clan at all costs. He is a collector of unwanted things, of found treasures and forgotten people. He isn't naturally brave, but he is fiercely protective and cunningly smart. He loves wholly, violently.

The description was followed by paragraphs explaining his skills, powers, and even a backstory about his family. Just this description was more complex than anything Steve had ever written.

"What's a Tife-ling?" He asked.

Eddie glanced up from the guitar. "It's Teef-ling. It's a character race. They have horns and tails because they have something of the Overlord of the Nine Hells in their bloodline." Reaching for another notebook, he flipped through and showed Steve a drawing. It was incredibly detailed–a tall figure with dark red skin, black hair and curving horns rising just above their temples.

"This looks like the shirt," Steve stated. "The Hellfire shirt."

"Yeah." Eddie nodded. "It's not exactly the same. But the guy who made the shirts for me used this to make them."

"Drawing yourself as part-demon doesn't do much to convince people you don't worship Satan," Steve added.

Eddie put the drawing back and stared Steve down with his intense, dark eyes. "We all have demons in us. It's all about what we choose to do that counts. The only thing that makes me different is that I don't go around pretending I'm perfect. I stare the demons down, rather than unleashing them on other people."

Steve nodded, unable to argue with the wisdom.

May 11, 1986

The next day, just after noon, the quiet in the cabin was suddenly interrupted by the sound of cars outside and the chatter of teenagers.

Glancing out the one window that wasn't boarded up, Steve glanced back at Eddie and said, "Get ready."

A moment later, the kids burst through the door. Dustin led the charge, pointing a finger at Steve as he said, "You! Let us forget your birthday!"

Steve glanced around as the kids quickly filled the small space with chatter and laughter.

"To be fair, we've ignored everyone's birthday." Nancy came in behind everyone else with her arms full of bags. Jonathan's arms were equally full, and Robin bounced beside them, her smile bright enough to light the room.

"We realized yesterday that, in the last month, we've missed Will's birthday, Mike's birthday, Hopper's birthday, your birthday, and," Robin's voice faltered, "Max's birthday."

To Steve's surprise, Hopper came through the door just then, with Joyce by his side. "Birthdays are for young people," he grumbled.

Joyce swatted him gently.

As Will helped Nancy and Jonathan unload bags of snacks, Hopper added, "We're also here to celebrate the fact that school is over. Apparently, that warrants junk food and noise. Congratulations. You've all survived."

The cacophony dimmed momentarily as they glanced at each other, easily finding the dual meaning in his words.

Robin added, "Even Eddie."

He glanced at her, confused.

Hopper sighed. "I was hoping for a more formal way of doing this, but there's no stalling excited teenagers." Pulling a rolled piece of paper from his jacket, he handed it to Eddie. "Congrats, kid. You graduated."

The room fell silent.

Eddie stared at Hopper, then glanced around, unsure. He unrolled the piece of paper and stared at it in disbelief. He shook his head. "But I never passed math?"

Joyce crossed the space to look at him, her much shorter stature doing nothing to diminish her strength. "One of the main goals of high school is to prepare you for the world. I'd say, you're ready to face whatever the world's hands you. Yes?"

Eddie, still not looking totally convinced, nodded.

Glancing at the diploma in his hands, Robin asked, "Edward Farraday?"

Softly, Eddie explained, "It's my mother's last name."

Hopper added, "I got you a new birth certificate, too. I know it's not the same as clearing your name. But, for now, if you want to get out of Hawkins…to not have all this follow you…you can."

With the slightest smile, Eddie nodded again.

Suddenly, Dustin crossed the room and wrapped Eddie in a tight hug. Eddie let him, and wrapped his arms around the younger boy in return.

Joyce cleared her throat. "We…the boys, El and I…we're going back to California for a couple weeks. We have to take care of some things with the house and the kids' school. Karen and Ted know. So does Claudia. And your mom, Lucas. You're all still welcome at the Wheeler's anytime. And Murray has agreed to check in. He knows how to reach us…securely. If anything happens."

"Are you moving back to Hawkins? For good?" Nancy asked, glancing at Jonathan.

Joyce sighed. "I don't know. I still have four months on the lease for the house. And…we're not sure what may happen…in Hawkins."

There was a heavy silence, and Dustin still clung to Eddie like a much smaller child holding a trusted older sibling. This was their dual reality. One moment they were laughing like normal kids, rolling their eyes like normal adults. Then, in a second, they were soldiers who've seen brutal war. Victims of terror. Survivors of loss. Heroes of costly battles. Keepers of the strangest things.

In a rare display of open solidarity, Hopper added, "We took on this shit thousands of miles apart. From a prison, a pizza freezer, an attic, and a trailer. If there's trouble, we know how to find each other."

The room was silent. Then Dustin looked at Hopper and chastised him, "Language."

That broke the tension, and laughter filled the space again. Hopper rolled his eyes and shook his head, exaggerating his annoyance.

For the next few hours, they laid down their worries. Hopper insisted they keep the noise down and stay inside the cabin, but that didn't stop them from watching two movies and laughing themselves silly. Dustin ate too much junk food and Robin rambled about her thoughts on John Hughes movies. Mike and El cuddled on the sofa while Joyce stopped Hopper from sitting between them. Nancy tried to clean the kitchen and Jonathan convinced her to let it go for the day. And true to his word, Hopper brought an old amp inside for Eddie. He also presented him with an aging acoustic guitar that he found in the closet with the amp.

"It's not great quality or in the best shape," he explained, "but it might as well get some use."

As afternoon became evening, they convinced Eddie to play a few songs. Although he wasn't as comfortable with the bulkier acoustic instrument, his agile hands found the chords to a couple campfire songs and finally, "Happy Birthday." In his melodramatic way, he repeated the middle phrase five times in order to include everyone's name, looking at Mike, Will, Hopper, and Steve with a grin as he did so. He sang Max's name last and strummed a few extra bars, as they all thought of her lying in her hospital bed, before finishing the song.

The mood shifted again as the kids started requesting pop songs, forcing Eddie to try and pick out the chords by ear. They all laughed as he struggled through "Material Girl" by Madonna while El sang off-key and butchered the lyrics. Both Will and Mike tried to help, and they all dissolved into laughter. Lucas managed a fairly decent version of "Eye of the Tiger." After much begging, Eddie switched guitars and played a bit of "Master of Puppets," albeit quietly, with Dustin exclaiming, "You've gotta hear it the right way sometime! Most. Metal. Ever!"

Steve stared as Eddie's fingers moved over the strings, sliding up and down the frets like he was born with a guitar in his hands. He played with his whole body, moving to the rhythm he created. He tossed his wild curls and bit his lip in concentration. When he finished the solo, Eddie looked up at Steve.

"Any requests? Anything other than–"

"Elton John?" Steve smirked.

Eddie groaned.

"What's wrong with Elton John?" Hopper scoffed. "He's a legend."

"I may have had his album on repeat. A few times." Steve admitted sheepishly.

The boys laughed so hard Dustin snorted.

"It's calming," Steve huffed.

With a devious grin, Eddie strummed a familiar tune. Then he sang:

And you can tell everybody, this is your song
It may be quite simple, but now that it's done

Steve should've been annoyed. Or laughing at their inside joke. Instead, he was captured by the intensity in Eddie's eyes. By how quickly he picked up the songs. How the words took on so much more meaning from Eddie's lips and the music became so much richer when played by his hands.

I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind
That I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Eddie looked up at Steve with his puppy dog eyes and flashed his dimpled grin. And something shot through Steve. Something with the velocity of lightning that cut to the bone. An undeniable pull that wasn't rooted in logic or sense. Something base. Something carnal and holy, fearsome and beautiful. Something he hadn't felt since…

Nancy .

It was an illogical feeling. His mind was betraying him in the worst way. This sudden, overwhelming pull toward a guy he'd known for two months made no sense. It had to be the result of their crazy living situation and some kind of shared trauma response. It was crazy. And terrifying.

It was so terrifying, Steve was still thinking about it in the wee hours of the morning, after everyone had gone home and he was trying to sleep on the sofa.

I like girls. I've always liked girls. I still like girls.

He tossed and turned on the sofa.

We're all just unnaturally close. We've literally saved each other's lives. That has to mess with our minds…

Steve's rambling thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the ringing phone. Only a few people had the number, so he jumped from the sofa to answer it.

The voice on the other end belonged to Dustin. "It's Max. She didn't wake up, but she said something. Lucas called me and…she was talking."

Without hesitating, Steve answered, "I'm on my way."

This story is rapidly becoming so much bigger than I planned. That's how my crazy brain works. Give it one idea and it runs off and comes back with ten. I have no idea what the actual plans are for ST Season 5, and I'm okay with that. This is my own exploration. I swore I wasn't going to write a complicated story, but the muse is leading. :-)

Also, the song in this chapter is "Your Song," by Elton John.