steddie going, steve.

my god your divine

He loved Steve.

He loved.. Steve. Oh my god.

"You.. love me?" Steve whispered. Yes, yes, Eddie. Eddie. Eddie! All he could think about was Eddie. Come back to him, please.

"Of course. I won't let you do this. Please." It pleaded. "For me."

Steve didn't know what to do. He was torn. He wanted to make Grey happy, but he felt empty inside without seeing his face. 

"Fine." Steve said reluctantly. He could practically feel the whiteboard beam. 

"Thank you, Steve." 

Steve smiled wearily. "Can you tell me more about your.. death?" 

He did. 

"That's.. terrible. I'm so sorry." Steve said, in shock. He shook his head, not really to Grey in particular.

"It's okay. It's late, get sleep." The whiteboard wrote kindly. 

Steve did as he was told and said goodbye as he walked out of the door.

Steve didn't come back downstairs after that for two days. Grey missed him terribly. He didn't know what to do. He drew pictures on the whiteboard, messed around with the lamps. What else could he do? Nobody could see him.

He didn't arrive the third day, either. Grey was getting impatient. He was also getting disappointed and discouraged. Did he scare him away? What was wrong with him?

He went to walk through a box (as he did for fun on these depressing days) and bumped into it sharply. 

"What the fu.." He whispered, looking down at his hands. He was back. He was back! Eddie was back! "Oh my god, I need to tell Steve!" He said, turning around. Suddenly, the lamp turned on and he turned back to where he was originally facing.

"I missed your face, Eddie."