thefreak | for hairsprayed

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[ 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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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.

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