Without You (Steddie)

Chapter 1

TW;  alcohol use, self harm, self loathing, drug use, suicidal thoughts 

I wake up, and the sun is already far enough along in the sky that it no longer shines directly into my window. Which, I am a little grateful for, since I woke up with another massive hangover. I can't sleep without drinking. I can't function without something somehow intoxicating me, otherwise I think too much. I get too caught up in memories and places in time that no longer exist. 

The phone rings, and it feels like thousands of tacks are being pressed directly into my ear drums. "Hello?" I answer the phone groggily, no one calls me anymore, aside from Robin. I separated myself from the boys, I can't bare to see them anymore. They're all like little pieces of him. Little reminders of what I could have had if I wasn't such a goddamn idiot. "Hey Stevie, how are you holding up?" 

"What do you need, Robs?" I sigh and pinch the skin together between my eyes, ugh my head hurts. "I just wanted to check in... I uh... I miss you a lot you know." She sounds sad, and distant. I feel so awful for leaving her out like this, but I just can't bare to let anyone be around me when I'm like this. I'm cold, and sad, and I just want more than anything to be numb. "I'm sorry... I just can't-"

"I...I know... So. Do you need anything? Groceries? Company?" I wish I could have her around. I really do. But she doesn't need to deal with me when I'm not able to even handle my own sobriety. "No, I'm alright I think... Hey I gotta go okay?" 

"Sure, sure... talk soon?" 

"Talk soon." I go to hang up the phone, but I hear Robin say something softly from the receiver. "Hey Steve?" I put the phone back to my ear. "Yeah?" 

"Love you. Always. I hope you know that." 

"Love you too Robs, bye." I hang up the phone and I can feel emotions starting to run. Too sober. I reach to the side of my bed, where I keep a bottle of whiskey so I can properly start my day. I take a long drink and get up to go shower off. 

I still live in my parents house. After the upsidedown fucked everything up, and everyone thought the world was ending, they gave me the mortgage to the house, and left town for good.  I guess it's mine now, but it'll never really feel like home to me. The only room I spend time in is my own. I've let the rest of the house sit, and become a museum full of bad memories. I don't let anyone in anymore. No maids, no friends. Nobody. 

Every room is covered in a thick layer of dust. I don't care about it. I don't care about anything. 

The mirror is dirty, I can't see my reflection anymore, and that's fine by me. I don't need to know what I look like, after the abuse I'm putting my body through. I'm sure that I look like shit. I get into the shower and wash off the layer of sweat and grime from sleeping drunkenly in my clothes again. I get out and brush my teeth, shave blindly, and get dressed in some clothes that might be clean? 

I've been back to Eddie's trailer, in a fog. The first night after we got back from the upsidedown without him, I went inside and took his books, his lunchbox, any clothes that I could find after the old place had been cracked in half and destroyed. I pretty much only wear his old shirts now, it's all I can manage to put on my body. It hurts, but they're his. And I want him with me always. 

I open up the lunchbox, pull out one of the joints that I've rolled, and light it, inhaling deeply. Anything to take the edge off. Anything at all to keep me from feeling. 

There's nothing that's off limits for me now. Coke? Sure. Weed? Absolutely. Ketamine? Why, the fuck, not? 2 things I won't do; heroin, I don't fuck with needles or feeling like I want to die, I can do that on my own,  and meth, too speedy, too much to think about. But hand me anything else, and I will do it if you tell me it's going to numb me the way I need it to.