Darling [Steve x Eddie]

Chapter 9

[tw: references/allusions to self harm, which sort of goes for any of the following chapters, just to be careful. stay safe, loves.]

Eddie woke up on his kitchen counter the next morning, a dead cigarette between his lips. His shoulders were killing him and the entire living room was a complete mess.

"Thank god Wayne isn't here," he breathed.

His uncle knew about the drugs, but not about the midnight binges, which Eddie only gave in to when he knew that the trailer was his own for the night. In fact, no one knew about his dazes. Robin had brushed the surface with him, but even she didn't know the full extent of them.

It was Eddie's worst secret because it wasn't something that he was particularly proud of, but he still needed them.

When he was high, everything else fell away. He didn't hate himself anymore because he wasn't able to form a comprehensive thought.

It was only afterwards that he collapsed back into self loathing. He knew that Dustin would never look up to him again if he ever found out about the way he truly was.

Hell, if Steve ever got ahold of the information, Eddie would be as good as dead in his hands.

He pulled himself off of the counter and walked past the couch and into the bathroom, not bothering to survey the damage.

It always looked the same. Dead joints scattered everywhere, writing on his arms, fingerprints on the sofa, sometimes blood under his nose or across his skin, wrists... well, he liked to keep his feelings there when he was high.

He looked into the mirror instead.

Not something that he liked to do a lot anymore.

There was a small cut high on his left cheekbone, probably from the edge of a glass or a kitchen knife. Same went for the lines struggling across his lower arms.

He wetted a piece of toilet paper under the sink and dabbed at the red areas, wincing slightly. He knew that he should be used to this by now, but it still hurt, every time.

"Fuck, Munson, when are you going to wake up?" He glared at his reflection.

Some of the cuts were opening again, despite his careful movements, and thin trickles of blood began to dance down his skin.

"For fucks sake."

He knelt down and opened the cupboard beneath the counter. He kept his stash of bandages and spare cloth in a bag behind Wayne's hotel soaps and sample shampoo bottles.

Just as he was reaching to pull it out, a knock came from the front door.

"Oh fuck." He tipped his head to the ceiling, eyes closed. "Oh, please, fuck me."

The knocking came again, louder this time.

"Coming!" he called out hoarsely as he stood up from the bathroom floor.

His arms were still running with blood, but his face looked alright. He could pass the cut off as an accident and as long as the person outside didn't see the rest of his body, he'd be alright.

He stumbled towards the front door and then slowly opened it a little bit, hiding himself behind it.

Steve.

On his doorstep.

Completely alone.

That was a first.

What could the asshole possibly want now?

"He-ee-ey, Steve..." he greeted him, slightly confused and definitely in pain, both from his shoulders and his arms.

Steve licked his lips nervously.

"Um, hi," he responded. "I just wanted to let you know that I found out who locked you in that janitor's closet."

"Right then, who was it?" Eddie asked, a little quicker than he meant.

The strain in his voice was obvious, but he grinned in a tired attempt to hide it.

Steve gave him a weird look.

"It was Andy, from basketball," he said, starting to look apologetic. "So it was one of my so called 'cronies'."

Eddie nodded along, but he was more focused on not squinting his eyes from the stinging sensation that was crawling along most of his skin. Half of what Harrington was saying hadn't even being registered yet.

"But I swear, I had nothing to do with it!" Steve exclaimed, clearly agitated.

"Yes, you're all good, Harrington," Eddie sighed and he sounded way weaker than he meant to.

Steve was really watching him now.

"Are—are you alright, Eddie?" he asked carefully.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut.

"Yup, totally, never been better and all that jazz," he hissed, gripping his wrist behind the door.

He glanced down for a millisecond to see how much he was bleeding and when he looked back up, Steve was looking to where his arms were hidden.

"Eddie?" His voice lowered in concern.

"Look, do you think you could just go, Steve?" Eddie snapped, desperate to shut the door.

"I really don't think so." Steve leaned against the doorframe. "What the hell is going on, Munson?"

Eddie swallowed.

So this was the death of him.

He closed his eyes and allowed Steve to push the door open further.