thefreak | for hairsprayed

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for hairsprayed

[ Finally, senior year at last. Eddie never thought he would get this far after all the shit he had to put up with growing up, but he finally felt like he had some semblance of normality in his life. At least, as normal as one could hope for when their father was responsible for teaching him the ins and outs of grand theft auto and drug dealing.

He had told himself he was going to quit the drug dealing at least, but he felt bad for Wayne, living in the trash pile that he did, giving up a normal bed for a pullout all for the sake of Eddie. It was the least he could do, cover some of the costs of keeping him around.

What a strange year it was, though. First the Byers kid goes missing, then he heard mumblings of Barb, too? And something to do with Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington of all people. Which, weird, he didn't think he would hear that name again.

He is just coming out of Melvald's with a fresh pack of cigarettes and a new lighter when speak of the devil, who should he see near the cinema but the very person who he had just been ruminating about. He keeps his distance since he isn't sure if he was even spotted just yet, but stays back against the wall, loitering signs be damned, as he lights up a cigarette and simply observes.

If his eyes don't deceive him, it looks like the guy is rubbing something off the marquee, and is sporting a fresh shiner, both of which seem very un-Steve like things to do. Which leads him to believe he must have fallen asleep at some point, because clearly he is dreaming, there just simply is no logical explanation for what he is witnessing. ]

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[ Eddie probably shouldn't be surprised that Steve does know who he is. He has, after all, made a bit of a name for himself by being a menace to society. But he figured Steve, King of Hawkins High, would have completely blocked him out.

He fixes Steve with a curious look before a wide grin starts to form and he gives an eager wave with his free hand as he continues to smoke. ]

Forgive me, your Highness, I merely come humbly to request an audience with you.

[ And because he never could resist the urge to indulge in a few theatrics, he does get down on his knee and clasps his hands together. Hey, if it makes Steve smile, then his job here is done. Because Steve looks like he's been having a rough day, and even if Eddie has to make an ass out of himself, well, that's a sacrifice he's willing to make. For the greater good. ]

In all seriousness, though. You get stuck with community service or something? [ He stands back up on his feet and points to the sign that he's still scrubbing clean. He can't imagine a scenario in which Steve would voluntarily choose to do something like this, and with the state of his face, maybe he cut a deal with Hopper to avoid getting a record. Although, the injury does look pretty serious, so where even is the other guy? ]

[ The thing is, Steve hasn't always been an asshole jock and especially not the playboy king of Hawkins. There was a time back before high school when he was more of a normal kid, unworried about social hierarchies or making friends with people who would otherwise bully him—and still sometimes did behind the guise of friendship. Instead, he made friends with whoever seemed nice, like the new kid that had moved to Hawkins halfway through fifth grade, awkward but with a toothy smile that drew Steve in as soon as he'd seen it. At the time he'd been unaware of the way some of their classmates whispered about Eddie living in the trailer park with his uncle or the increasingly terrible rumors about his parents that always ended with the fact that they didn't want their kid anymore. Steve had been oblivious and so bad at guarding what probably should have been a secret friendship.

The problem is that his father both lauds normalcy and yet doesn't accept mediocrity. He expected his family to be socially normal but find ways to be excellent, either through work or homemaking or school. He wouldn't let Steve pal around with just anybody and preferred that he spend his time getting good at something since it was obvious early on that he wasn't very smart. Steve's mother also didn't want him playing around inside her carefully curated house, so sports were an obvious outlet for Steve's one talent for using his body.

Sometimes Steve thinks about Eddie Munson and wonders if he's forgotten about him the same way Steve has pretended to forget about him.

Of course he's the one to see Steve at this low point, and maybe it's karmic justice that he could kick King Steve while he was down. Steve had just lost a fight with one town freak, so he should probably accept whatever the other one wanted to say to him now, too. Eddie sets in with the king teasing, very original content on his behalf, but the way he kneels down confuses a cough of laughter out of Steve. He's not the first asshole to ham it up at someone's expense, though, and Steve has spent enough time around Tommy to keep his guard up no matter what. ]

The king's on vacation. [ Steve definitely doesn't feel like royalty and wishes people would stop using the nickname against him. Actually, right now he's sort of wishing he didn't have that nickname at all considering the cuts and bruises all over his face. ] I'm just Steve trying to do something good for once.

[ Maybe it was a defense mechanism, or maybe Eddie really did convince himself that he had hallucinated a friendship with Steve Harrington all those years ago. Nobody would have believed him if he tried to argue that there had been a time when they were friends. And why should they? Eddie Munson's the kid from the wrong side of the tracks, Steve's the golden boy who's destined for greatness or whatever bullshit they're force feeding the kids these days.

For a moment, though, he spots a glimpse of the old Steve in the way he's scrubbing off the marquee, supposedly of his own choosing. Which, while Eddie might find it hard to believe, he does remember a time when Steve had been a genuinely good person.

And shit, as if thinking about the past hasn't brought back to the surface the dumb crush he had on Steve all those years ago. Almost as if they had never had that falling out to begin with. He hates that it barely took anything to get Eddie to warm up to him once again. ]

Well, shit. Didn't think I'd see the day when you'd abdicate. [ And because he apparently lacks self-preservation: ] Need a hand? [ Before Steve can answer, he drops the cigarette butt to the ground and stamps it out with his foot. ] Or, hell, even just company?

[ Steve isn't about to admit to Eddie that he has no idea what the hell abdicate means, so he just grunts a non-answer in response. The conversation isn't exactly a fun one, but at least Eddie isn't outright tormenting him—he's never been the kind to kick someone when they're down—so Steve isn't going to make him leave. Maybe he needs a friend right now since Tommy and Carol are grade A assholes, Nancy definitely hates his guts, and he's friends with the other jocks at school in that way that forced proximity makes kids band together. Maybe Eddie can sympathize with the junior jerk who got cheated on and over-reacted only to get his face beat in as payment. ]

I'm almost done. [ Gesturing to the sign which is almost clean except for a faint red aura that may never come off, Steve glances back down at Eddie as he drops the cigarette. ] Got any more of those?

[ For a moment, Eddie thinks that Steve is about to tell him to fuck off. There is definitely something different to this version of The Hair, and he can't help but wonder what the tipping point had been. Was it the fight that resulted in Steve's shiner? Or was there something bigger at play here?

Maybe he doesn't usually like gossip, but in this case, he finds himself dying to know.

At the same time, he feels some strange sense of sympathy for the kid with the messed up face. Like Eddie can see a part of himself in the would be king. Even though he knows that the two of them couldn't be much different at that point. ]

You're in luck. [ He reaches into his leather jacket and pulls out the fresh pack he had only just opened, shuffling around until he can smack out a single cigarette and hold it out towards Steve as a peace offering. ]

Got a lot more than this, but such are conversations that should probably not be had in broad daylight.

[ At first, Steve thinks that Eddie is talking about more cigarettes and wonders what's wrong with that, what about it couldn't be discussed in daylight since he's old enough to buy them legally? Then he remembers Tommy talking about the freak he'd buy from, stuff to make parties more interesting, and realizes that Munson definitely fits the description. ]

Don't tempt me. [ Setting the rag down on top of the ladder, he climbs down and takes the offered cigarette. He doesn't have a lighter so just puts it behind his ear for now and glances around. He'd like to get as far away from here as possible, ideally somewhere with ice for his face, but he's also enjoying the company of someone with absolutely no expectations of him, someone who probably hates his guts and yet is willing to be nice to him when he's feeling his lowest. ] Conversation for somewhere else, though, right? I'm sick of seeing this theater hang over me anyways.

[ In all honesty, Eddie hadn't expected this encounter to last this long, much less continue past the marquee. And sure, Eddie could have put an end to the conversation, to all of this himself, but he's finding that he's actually enjoying reconnecting to Steve, even if it's cautiously so.

So when Steve implies they should continue this conversation elsewhere, Eddie looks a little stunned, but ultimately agrees. Mostly because he tries not to hang around town too long, lest he have a run-in with Steve's old friends and be reminded of his apparent place in the social hierarchy of Hawkins High. ]

Where to, then? [ It's not like there are many options, and he doesn't want to outright volunteer his home since even though he knows Wayne won't be home, he knows he won't be able to erase the inevitable shame he would feel at inviting Steve inside, knowing the disparity between the trailer and the Harrington palace. Still, it's a place where they'd be able to just coexist comfortably without interruptions for a few hours. ]

[ Glancing to where his car is parked down the side alley, Steve looks back at Eddie and weighs the options. He definitely doesn't want to go home, not with his parents ready to jump on him for smelling like smoke and bringing riff-raff into their home. Inviting himself to Eddie's place feels wrong, too, and it's not like they can go hang out at school or something lame like that.

Steve exhales, just this side of a sigh, and pulls his keys from a jacket pocket. ] How about just a drive?

[ Though he knows it might sound sketchy, Steve can't think of anything better for just getting out of his head. He loves to drive around without any specific destination, the purr of the engine and the soft rhythm of Top 40 in the background. To some, it's probably freeing to get in a card and drive, picking a road and leaving Hawkins for good; for Steve, it had once been about seeing and being seen, but maybe the first option sounds better right now.

Not waiting for an answer since he figures he'll drive off with or without Eddie, Steve heads to his car and slides into the driver's seat. ]

[ For a moment there, Eddie thinks Steve is going to have second thoughts. Like maybe he can't be seen with him anywhere. But then Steve is inviting him on a drive, and Eddie is just left standing there for a moment, feeling perplexed.

This is not where he saw his day going, not in a million years. He had figured that whatever chance he and Steve had of ever being friends had gone out the window years ago, and while he isn't entirely sure it's in the cards for them, he can't help the ache in his chest that he feels, the yearning. Besides, it's not like he has anything better to do.

So, he follows Steve after a moment's hesitation and slides into the passenger's side. This feels weird. Not so much because it's Steve, but because this car feels very expensive. Like it probably cost as much as Wayne's trailer. It's another reminder that he doesn't really belong in Steve's world, but Steve wouldn't have invited him along if he didn't want anything to do with him, right?

Right. So he buckles his seatbelt. ]

Can't tell if I'm about to be driven to one of your many makeout spots or to be taken to my untimely death. How thrilling.

[ Turning on the car and pausing just to listen as it purrs to life, Steve hears the click of the seatbelt and turns to raise an eyebrow at Eddie. He never thought that someone who frequently rants about sticking it to the man would care about traffic laws, and Steve is pretty sure he's seen at least one tattoo on him so driving safety also feels paradoxical. Whatever the case, Steve's just glad his car won't be dinging at him softly for the transgression. He does turn the radio down a far bit since he'd been blasting it on the drive up to the theater. ]

I'm not going to kill you, Munson. [ At least not literally, though depending on how the conversation goes—if there is any—he might try to mentally. The thing is, Steve doesn't want to be alone with his own thoughts right now, but he scared his girlfriend off for overreacting to her maybe cheating on him and yelled at the two people he'd called his friends for most of high school. It's a little ridiculous to think that someone as popular as him doesn't really have friends, but he's also never hung out with any of his teammates on days he didn't have practice or a game, and until recently he'd only hang out with girls to get into their pants.

Melting back into the driver's seat, gingerly leaning his head against the headrest since Byers had beat the crap out of him, Steve pulls out of the alley and onto the street. ] No makeout spots either, you're not my type.

[ It might surprise Steve to know that at the end of the day, Eddie can set aside his anti-conformity ideals when it comes to stuff that is near and dear to him. Namely Wayne Munson, who patiently had to deal with a rebellious teen on a self-destructive binge and set some ground rules. It probably helps that, as young as Eddie had been at the time, he remembers the car accident that had started his father down the spiral that eventually led to Eddie being sent to live with Wayne. Thankfully, Steve says nothing, and Eddie would've lied anyway.

He turns to fix Steve with a curious look, an arch of his eyebrow. ] Yeah? I'm kinda surprised. [ It's spoken with a deadpan tone, but he breaks into a grin quickly to show that he's egging Steve on. ] Guess this town is too boring for that anyway. [ Except for the fact it isn't, now, is it? Will Byers, and then Barb mysteriously vanishing. He didn't know her at all, but she didn't seem like the type to just up and leave town without a word.

To Eddie's credit, he is somewhat of a good actor, and so when Steve mentions Eddie not being his type, he barely shows a reaction. Of course he's not, why would he be? That doesn't stop the sting of the reminder, though. That's completely on him, of course, for letting himself imagine the straightest boy in high school ever giving him the time of day. ] Damn, guess I'll never find out why the ladies all go wild around you, then.

[ Steve scoffs at the thought that Hawkins was boring. A week or so ago, he would have agreed in an instant; doing keg stands at parties and fucking in the backseat up at Lover's Lake had been the only interesting activities for Steve for the majority of high school. School dragged when he didn't have sports to focus on, and a lot of his life seemed to revolve around pretending he was cooler and happier than he felt a lot of the time. But then the Beyers kid went missing, and Barbara shortly after, and now it feels like the whole town is going to shit along with Steve's life. ]

Are you the one person in town not gossiping about the Beyers?

[ He instantly regrets bringing it up considering he'd had Jonathan's fist in his face less than an hour ago. For all Steve knows, Eddie is friends with him, freaks flocking together the same way asshole popular kids formed cliques.

Turning to face Eddie, Steve frowns at him with confusion more than anything. Shouldn't he be backtracking, covering up the fact that he'd made a joke that sounded like he's a queer? Steve so rarely encounters anyone making jokes about it in a light-hearted way, because while Tommy would joke about other people being gay, it seemed like social suicide to suggest it about yourself.

Your loss, he wants to reply, but he doesn't have enough energy to play around like that. Also, the last thing he wants to do is sound like he's flirting and give Eddie the wrong idea about him. ]

You don't care about what people think, do you?

[ The mention of the Byers catches Eddie off guard a bit. It makes him wonder if Steve has actually paid attention to the social hierarchy outside of those at the top of the totem pole. If he did he might have noticed that Eddie and Jonathan, while they are both their own flavor of freaks, don't run in the same circle.

He might have also noticed the way Eddie never so much as flinched at his friends calling him whatever homophobic slur they learned that day. Maybe it'll get him killed one day, but he'd rather wear it as a badge of honor than live in fear every single goddamn day in his life.

Besides, as soon as he graduates, he's out of Hawkins. ]

I've never been a fan of gossip. [ He shrugs, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the car window. ] And I'm pretty sure Mrs. Byers wouldn't let me within ten feet of her home. [ News travels fast when he's been brought to the station by Hopper one too many times.

He shrugs at Steve's question. Why should he care what anyone else thinks? They've already decided who he is, so what's the use in trying to convince them he's anything else? ]

I don't see the point in caring. It's not going to change their minds about me.

It's not gossip this time. [ He says it with a hard tone in his voice. Steve had felt the weight in Jonathan's blows, the grief that was spilling out of him because Steve had picked at the wrong scab. With a somewhat clearer head, without the red haze of jealousy fueling his words, Steve knows that he'd gone too far with the things he had said. It was a low blow to look at a family suffering a loss, especially the loss of a kid, and turn it into bait for a fight.

It's definitely intriguing to think that even a family like the Beyers would have standards above Eddie. Steve has heard plenty of gossip, thinly veiled as news, from his parents about Joyce and Lonnie divorcing and her not being able to care for her kids who needed a man around so they didn't grow up queer. Steve can't help but think that Jonathan was already too far gone if he was taking pictures of naked girls while lurking in the forest—not gay, but definitely a freak—but now it seems like some girls might be into that.

He realizes he's drifting over a double yellow and swerves back into their lane. Already they've left the town behind and are just driving aimlessly through the winding forest roads. ]

Sounds kinda freeing. [ Looking over at Eddie again, he notes the way he taps his fingers and remembers a school talent show when he'd playing guitar. ] Must be nice being invisible sometimes.

[ Eddie just hums in agreement without saying anything. It must be hard, having a kid just vanish. Eddie tries not to think about it too much, because if he does, he'll put himself in Will's shoes and wonder if his old man would have put in even an ounce of the effort that Joyce has at demanding that her son be found.

He doesn't have to think too long before he admits to himself that Jack Munson would have given up pretty quickly. Wayne, though? Wayne keeps surprising him with his dedication to making sure his nephew stays afloat, day in and day out.

Steve's driving is no worse than Eddie's (and if anything, Eddie would probably be inspiring fear in Harrington's heart right about now) but Eddie's too distracted by the conversation to pay much mind to whatever their destination apparently is. ]

It is and it isn't. [ He shrugs as he turns his attention from watching the outside scenery to Steve Harrington himself, in all his coiffed hair glory. ] Being invisible means there's nobody to care at the end of the day. No Joyce Byers putting the fear of god into Chief Hoppers. Gets kinda lonely.

[ Steve doesn't feel very glorious at the moment and is probably beat up enough to not look it, either. He'd cleaned up before returning to the cinema and scrubbing off the graffiti he'd help put there, but he's still got a swollen eye, a cut across his nose, and a split lip. If Eddie thinks that's glorious, he needs his eyesight checked.

Yet again, Steve regrets his words. Bringing up being invisible just to hear that it sounds a lot like what he experiences, even in the spotlight, makes his insides all clench up and twist. He hasn't eaten all day, all that empty space inside of him feeling hollow along with the question he can't help but ask himself: Would his parents go to such lengths? Would they try to find him and then save face by accepting the pity of the entire town rather than look for their fuck-up of a son? Maybe turn it into a bid to get Hopper replaced since they thought so little of him. Beyond his parents, would anyone care past the echo of his name bouncing around the halls of Hawkins High as everyone gossiped about where he went and why? ]

Can I be real with you?

[ Steve's question brings out a bark of laughter from Eddie. He wouldn't expect Steve to be real with him a day in his life -- or at least, he wouldn't have up until today. Something earth shattering clearly happened to make Steve remove the spray paint from the marquee, to invite Eddie into the car, to be real with him.

Maybe that hit to the head jostled something in Steve and he finally grew a conscience. ]

Yes, Stevie, in fact, I would love it if you were. [ It's easy for Eddie to make assumptions about Steve, just like everyone else has made assumptions about Eddie. Maybe that makes him a hypocrite for being furious that people pegged him as a shitty student and a problem child from an early age, simply because of his family name. Up until this point, though, he hasn't really needed to worry so much about what Steve is really like underneath all those layers. ]

[ Eddie laughs and for a second, Steve remembers when they were friends. There was something so joyful about the Munson kid despite the life he'd been strapped with, again gleened by Steve as his parents talked town gossip around the dinner table. Steve didn't care, though, because Eddie made up the best stories and was a fast runner and didn't tease Steve for being scared of spiders.

Except now the laughter is directed at Steve, sounding harsher and probably a lot more jaded. Eddie's been through hell at the hands of jerks like Steve Harrington, and it feels selfish to try and unload some of the weight on his shoulders over to Eddie. The mocking Stevie doesn't help, not when it reminds him of being kids again and contrasts with the unfair reality of growing up. ]

Whatever, man. I was just gonna say that everyone's lonely. [ He thinks so, anyways, in a sad way where misery loves company. ] Hopper wouldn't give a shit about either of us.

[ That wild grin that always seems to find its way on Eddie's face when he's being mocking just fades when Steve pokes a hold in his theory. It makes it a little less okay to feel righteous if everyone else is apparently as miserable as you feel. ]

Yeah, well. I don't know about everyone. [ And maybe they are, but he looks at the ones who are all coupling up already, getting ready for prom while Eddie is just trying to keep his grades close to passing so he doesn't have to face the reality that he might not be able to graduate like he wants to. ]

It sucks, doesn't it. [ A statement more than a question. And maybe a part of him wants to rub this in his face, while another warring part in him reminds him that he's buried that part of his existence so far behind him, because it was easier to pretend he never had been friends with Steve than endure the pain of watching him be friends with Tommy fucking Hagan, the guy responsible for at least three of his black eyes in the past year. ]

In the interest of being real... [ And he knows he's going to regret this, but he's already regretting a lot of things about how this day is going. ] Is it weird if I say I missed this? [ Even if it's nothing like how they used to be, he has to admit to himself that even just having Steve acknowledge his existence for a change feels significant. ]

[ Steve is ready to agree that yeah, maybe not everyone. There were plenty of normal people living happy normal lives, and maybe nothing amazing every happened, but they weren't alone in the big bad world. He knows that it's probably hypocritical of himself to even feel lonely, based on what Eddie sees of him: rich parents, popular friends, a line of girls ready to give it up to King Steve. Appearances can be deceiving, though, something that Eddie has to know since he's not the dangerous freak that so many parents claim him to be. For Steve, it's lonely at the top to the point where it feels like he's so easily fallen to the bottom.

But then Eddie admits that he missed this which implies that he remembers it and also misses Steve to some degree. It takes everything for Steve not to slam on the breaks as his head whips around to look Eddie dead in the eyes. ]

You remember?

[ Eddie looks back at Steve through wide, panic-stricken eyes; doe eyes that have been caught in headlights, unable to look away. He offers Steve a sad smile as he nods before eventually letting go of eye contact in favor of staring straight ahead, if for no other reason than to let Steve go back to watching the road. ]

Of course I remember. Shit, I haven't forgotten a single bit of it, I just got really good at pretending. [ He swallows hard and his jaw clenches a little bit as he fights back the bitter memories, lest Steve suddenly remembers why they stopped talking and goes back to doing just that. ] It was easier that way, y'know? Or I thought it was easier at first, pretty sure I was just kidding myself the whole time.

[ Eddie confirms it in just about the most heart-wrenchingly quiet way, and Steve swears. Turning his eyes back to focus on driving, listening as Eddie continues talking, he takes the next turnoff he knows. He takes them a short distance down the dirt road before throwing the car into park and cutting the engine. This feels like a big revelation, something important, and he wants to be able to look at Eddie and not have to be concerned with no crashing into anything or driving off the road. If it also happens to feel like he's driven Eddie to a makeout spot or a place to murder him, that's not Steve's fault. ]

Fuck! [ Lifting his hands to his face, he holds them there for a second to press his cool palms against his eyes, feeling the sting of the one that's black and blue, and then combs his hair back from his bruised face. ] I'm such a goddamn asshole! You flipped that switch so fast and I just assumed you didn't want anything to do with me anymore, ever. It made it easier to think that and I just— I keep letting people tell me what the fuck to do and it fucking sucks.

[ Eddie feels himself ease up when Steve parks, because with the way this conversation is going it definitely needs Steve to not be driving right now. So that he can lean over and place a hand on Steve's shoulder and reassure him. ]

Hey. It's -- well, I'm not going to pretend it's okay, because shit, it's not and I spent so many goddamn years hoping that you might wake up one day and decide to be my friend again, but the point is you're talking to me now, right? [ And maybe Eddie will regret giving Steve a second chance, and maybe part of his generosity has to do with the way Steve still makes him feel those rare moments a smile is directed at him, but it's not like he has too many friends, and with the shape Steve is in right now, apparently Steve doesn't either. ]

Besides, it's not like I wanted you to believe I wanted anything to do with you. That'd be pathetic, right? Poor Eddie Munson, such a doormat he'd let Stevie walk right over him and still take him back. [ He rolls his eyes and tears his gaze away from Steve, lest he see just how vulnerable he's being. ]

[ Steve tenses up at the weight of Eddie's hand landing on his shoulder. It's been so long since someone touched him when he was upset that it feels misplaced in this context; he doesn't get emotional in front of hook-ups and he'd certainly grown out of getting comfort from mom and dad, at least according to them. It's foreign and it's nice and he hopes that Eddie doesn't interpret Steve's mild flinch as a reason to pull away. ]

It's not okay. [ He echoes it as he drops his hands into his lap and leans his head back against the headrest. Staring up at the ceiling for a second, he rolls his head to the side to look at Eddie again. Though he looks so different from how Steve remembers him when they were kids, there's still that playful smile in the corner of his lips and that slight sadness behind his doe eyes. ] You deserved way better.

[ Eddie breaks the eye contact and slaps Steve with words that stink like a physical touch. The most disappointing part is that Eddie isn't wrong; Steve would have found it pathetic, but more because of projecting his own issues onto Eddie rather than anything else. If he would have been allowed to keep Eddie's friendship at a distance without worrying about it affecting his popularity or whatever else had stopped him the first time around, the wound would have festered and turned toxic rather than healing over as it did. ]

Man, you still do. Why're you here? [ He doesn't say it with any kind of accusation, more like he's finally voicing his disbelief that of all the people to be here with him at such a low point, it's Eddie Munson. ] The people close to me think I'm a stupid loser. I won't even blame you if this is like revenge or something for you.

[ Steve has changed so much since they were kids that when Eddie looks at him now, broken and alone, he sadly finds the pieces of the boy he remembered being friends with. He should feel awful, that it's taken Steve nearly getting pummeled into unconsciousness to bring that boy out again, but that tiny bit of him that feels thankful that his best friend is still in there somewhere is battling with himself.

But even so, he can't help but question it, too. Why is he here? Maybe he's a little bit of a masochist and has considered the possibility that he just might get his heart broken again, but he knows deep down that he cares too much about people, even those who would kick him while he's down. ]

Those people close to you are full of shit. [ And then he pauses as he looks back at Steve. ] Besides, if anyone knows anything about being a loser and being stupid, it's me. My grades are absolute shit, and, well. [ He gestures at himself, as if his appearance alone is supposed to be enough of an indicator that he is, in fact, a loser. ] Maybe, I don't know. Maybe being a stupid loser isn't so bad after all?

Grades aren't the only thing that tell us if people are smart. [ Even the way he says it sounds stupid to his own ears, but it's something that he wants to believe. Steve knows that he knows things, can pitch a tent and start a fire and tie knots and teach someone all the rules of baseball or basketball in an afternoon. He knows how to move his body into the right angle mid-air to dive into the pool with the least resistance, and he knows how to make a girl come with his mouth alone. But he's close to failing English and his history grades are teetering on the edge, and he thinks that school is a whole lot of bullshit for reasons he doesn't know how to put into words a lot of the time. ]

You're not a loser. [ It probably doesn't sound genuine coming out of the blue, and even Steve knows that it's not entirely true. There's a difference between society telling someone they're a loser and them actually being one, though. ] Not really.

[ Steve knows that it's selfish to let himself have this, that even at a low point he's taking advantage of Eddie being so nice. It's something that a lot of people don't know about him and honestly probably don't deserve the chance to find out. Everyone from the King of Hawkins to the D&D freak has learned how to protect their most vulnerable selves by playing along with their roles to a certain extent. ]

Even if you are... So we're a couple of losers. Does that make us friends again? I'm not the nice kid you knew before, Eddie.

( Eddie arches his eyebrow up when Steve insists he's not a loser. That's a statement that sounds surprising coming from Steve, but maybe it's evidence that Steve is undergoing a metamorphosis of his own. Despite their differences, and despite how much Steve had hurt him all those years ago by abandoning their friendship for whatever reasons he might have had, Eddie still feels a sense of longing for something -- or someone -- that might not even exist in its purest form anymore.

He wonders, though, whether Hawkins would even let this happen. How many people would get in the way to make sure the world keeps going on in the specially crafted way that keeps the status quo the way it is? Maybe that's Eddie being dramatic, but he can't imagine the rest of their peers being particularly nonplussed if they started hanging out together, even after the fall from social grace that Steve is apparently undergoing. )

And I'm not the sweet, wholesome boy with shitty parents that you knew before. Still the shitty parents, but traded in the Boy Scout badges for dimebags.

( He shrugs, looking more nonchalant than he maybe felt about this situation, but he has always tried to play it close to the vest. )

But yes, I'd like to be friends again. Like I said, I missed you, Stevie.

[ Certain people would definitely want to keep the status quo of Steve being the popular jock and Eddie being nowhere near him—mainly, Steve's parents. The thing is that Steve hasn't wanted to be under his parents' collective thumb for a few years now and while he's tried to rebel his way out from under it in a few ways, being a classic man by sleeping around and fighting for social dominance hasn't really gotten him far. It took several punches to the face to make him realize it, but the friends that Steve's earned this way don't seem to genuinely care for him. He'd thought that maybe Nancy did, but clearly he hasn't been able to read people very well lately.

Snorting at the comment about the dime bags, Steve doesn't try to play dumb about it being a shock. Eddie had built a quiet reputation for himself as the go-to guy for "party favors," and even if Steve never bought from him directly, he's certainly enjoyed some of his wares thanks to Tommy. The nickname pulls more of a reaction from him, head snapping up and making him woozy as he looks over at Eddie. He doesn't feel like he's allowed to say it, shouldn't be acting like a victim when he'd dug this grave for himself those years ago, but it's not a lie to echo back— ] I missed you, Eds.

So. [ He clears his throat and looks back out the windshield into the woods around them, reaching out to wrap his hands around the top of the steering wheel and grip it just for something to do with his hands. ] Now what?

( This day has felt like a whirlwind. Before he had run into Steve, he had just been going about his day, business as usual. And it's not like he hadn't run into Steve before, but something about today had been set up perfectly in such a way that neither boy could ignore each other any longer. It's something Eddie is finding himself grateful for now, merely by the way that familiar nickname rolls off Steve's tongue.

But now that they've managed to admit that they missed each other, that doesn't change just how much they have since they were friends. There is still a lot for both of them to make up for, and Eddie knows it's not going to take a car ride and hanging out while smoking to bridge that gap. )

That depends entirely on you. I was just going to go back to my place to smoke before I ran into you, if you want to join. Or we could do something else...or we could leave it at that, part ways and see how tomorrow goes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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