#3:21 am

[un-invierno-eterno]

Lunes 10 de Julio del 2023 2:21 am

Estimado M:

Ni si quiera me dan ganas de llamarte estimado, pero necesito escribirte esta carta como despedida y yo sé que ya ha pasado un largo tiempo. Pero ahora tengo tiempo para pensar y reflexionar como no pude. Fue duro todo este proceso, no quede muy bien que digamos, voy admitir que quede traumada... lamentablemente.

Exactamente han pasado 2 meses desde que decidí que tenía que dejarte ir a pesar de que no quería, me cuesta mucho soltar a las personas. Al punto de que siempre espero que la otra persona lo haga y así es como sucede todo el tiempo.

El punto es que, yo pensaba que soltándote haría que pensaras en mi como yo lo hacia en ese tiempo. Si bien, yo fui la que dejó el visto en ese entonces, pero es que tus mensajes eran irrespondibles, con excusas sin sentido donde sentía que lo único que querías era que te dejara en paz de una vez por todas. Y así fue como lo hice, pero siempre con la esperanza de que insistirías (que tonta).

No soportaba el hecho de que me dijeras que estabas mal y que querías estar bien para estar conmigo pensando que yo era el ser más feliz y rehabilitado de este mundo y aquí necesito serte sincera. Desde niña que he ido a terapía, pero con psicólogos que nunca fueron lo suficientemente buenos para tratar mi caso. En mi familia no son muy creyentes de esto, así que yo misma tuve que buscar ayuda, pero nunca me sentí cómoda, sentía que en vez de ayudarme sólo invalidaban mis sentimientos y mis traumas. Una vez una psicóloga me dijo que tenía inteligencia emocional al reírme de mis problemas, y con los años descubro que eso es una respuesta a cierto trauma de la niñez.

No me rio porque quiera, es más hasta a mi me molesta tener esa muletilla estúpida, pero es inevitable. Me veo contenta y estable porque odio mostrar mi lado negativo a las personas, no quiero que se sientan incomodos con mi energía negativa. Porque de verdad soy agotadora y hasta un grano en el culo cuando la expongo. Cosa que tu hiciste conmigo, fuiste un verdadero hdp conmigo, pero yo te soporte porque soy empática y siempre trato de ponerme en el lugar del otro, porque yo sé lo que es tener días malos y se cuando es difícil fingir demencia con ese sentimiento.

Te lloré semanas, creo que te lloré mas o menos un mes. Te lloré en los brazos de mi madre con problemas respiratorios de tanto dolor que sentía por sentirme tan tonta por haberme ilusionado de esa forma contigo. Porque realmente pensé que eras mi ser amado, eras muy lo que había manifestado, las primeras impresiones son difíciles, pero tu lo habías logrado bastante bien, excepto por la parte donde querías tomarme la mano de inmediato en la primera cita. Fue muy incomodo, no soy de tacto y eso que te lo había dicho, y no es porque sean mis reglas, soy desconfiada y necesito que la persona me haga sentir segura, pero me deje tocar porque me gusto tu olor y tu vibra de ese día, fue agradable, no al punto de sentirme segura, pero si bastante confiada.

Quiero admitir que costó que me gustaras, ni siquiera me gustaste en persona. Sólo lo hice porque quería olvidar a la persona que estuvo antes que tu. Es más, seguía hablando contigo pero siempre pensé en él y lo único que quería era que volviera. Pero igual sabía que no lo haría, sólo veía mis historias, pero nada más. Aunque siempre pensé en que la forma en la que tu me tratabas era lo que yo siempre soñé y que manifesté. Así que me dejé querer a pesar de estar cagada de susto porque sentía que todo era demasiado rápido, y yo no quería eso, me sentía incomoda que las cosas se dieran tan bien y rápidas. Además que te notaba muy "ilusionado" y no quería romper tu corazón. A ese nivel de empatía, me hubiese gustado saber en ese entonces que sólo jugabas conmigo y que quizás sólo querías meterla e irte.

Y pues, yo te dejé ir hace 2 meses. Pensé que cambiarias, pero no me hablaste más a pesar de que por Instagram te enviaba memes, ya ni siquiera los respondías o lo reaccionabas, de la nada te volviste un completo extraño y me dolió mucho. Hasta que llegó el día viernes, te pregunté como estabas y me dijiste que bien, sólo que te hacía sentir mal con tanto palo. Yo sólo te respondí "Que bueno que estés bien jsjsjsjs" y me dejaste el visto. Pensé que me preguntarías como estaba yo, porque se suponía que me querías mucho y que me veías para algo serio y bla bla bla (bull shit). Pero no, yo era la razón de que te sintieras enfermo y con ganas de huir, a los 2 días después me dejas de seguir y de ahí no paré de llorar.

La verdad, es que no sabía si estaba bien llorar por ti, porque no llegamos a nada. Sólo fuimos dos personas que compartieron dos días y dos semanas de su vida, para terminar en absolutamente nada. Fue todo tan malditamente intenso, la primera semana me diste todo lo que anhelaba, pero a la segunda semana sólo sentía "déjame en paz y ándate, ya obtuve lo que quería. Y no eres tú"

Entonces, te lloré con un cargo de consciencia enorme, no entendía nada, me sentía como loquita, me sentía como esquizofrénica tal y como el día que te conocí y te preguntaba a cada rato si era real o era mi esquizo jugándome una mala pasada. A veces de verdad siento que fuiste un momento psicótico de mi mente, porque mi cabeza ya no daba más. Antes de ti, me habían tratado bien, también hable la primera semana de una forma muy intensa, pero en ese entonces yo fui la intensa con esa persona, de verdad, sentía que eras hasta mi karma por haberme comportado así anteriormente y que eso no se hace, eso asusta y es alta red flag. Me usaron y fue más bien porque yo quise, me gustó mucho esa persona, porque a pesar de como me trato después y en la forma que me botó fue horrible. Fue el primer chico que me preguntó si había comido, no me tocó como cualquier cosa a la primera, espero a que yo le diera permiso, me cocinó, me hablo de su vida, era gracioso y podía conversar sobre cualquier cosa con él en persona. Porque por chat si fue un patán, me dejó el visto varias veces, sólo enviaba memes y yo se los respondía todos, y él a los míos sólo los reaccionaba. Fui literalmente un sucio cárdigan usado bajo la cama de alguien, pero yo quería eso y me trato con respeto en esas ocasiones. El punto es, que cuando me dejo querer, tu me botaste, y me botaste de una forma tan fría y distante, cuando se suponía que tu si me querías. Este chico del que siempre te escribo es alguien que desde el principio me dejó en claro lo que quería y yo no hice caso. Porque creía que podía ser la excepción. El punto es que no fuimos nada y a pesar de tirarle palos y webearlo hasta el cansancio no me dejó de seguir a la primera como tú. Aguanto las balas de mi despecho por bastante tiempo, hasta que dejé de importarle en los absoluto.

Sab, 15 de julio del 2023 (23:54 pm)

Tu me dijiste que te molestaban los palos, te hacían sentir mal y a los tres días me dejaste de seguir sin borrarme de tus seguidores, como si fuera tu fan. La cosa es que te los merecías por ilusionarme de esa forma, eso no se hace. Yo quedé dolida por 2 meses.

2 meses donde la mitad me los pase llorando y preguntándome que hice mal para merecer esto. El porqué me hiciste esto a mi, en como no tuviste la responsabilidad de ser sincero, que cosas no te agradaron de mi para hacerme esto y cambiar tan rápido de opinión, tratarme como cualquier cosa cuando nos juntamos por última vez. Y es que son tantas cosas que me pregunto y me pregunté. Pero siento que ya no vale la pena pensar, porque seguramente estás en algo o quizás pololeando, al igual que el primer chico con el que tuve "algo".

No te deseo el mal y siempre te lo dije. No soy ese tipo de personas, no me nace. Osea si me nace, pero no lo hago porque todo se devuelve. Y a mi siempre se me devuelve por mil. Es horrible, es más creo que viví tremendo karma estos dos meses, un karma que no merecía. Sólo era una chica cansada de la soltería y que quería conocer el amor de su vida, que tenía esperanzas, confianza y casi nada de toxicidad. No me gusta hacer show, soy celosa pero no de las que te hacen la vida imposible, soy de las que sufren en silencio y sobre piensan. Porque sé, que te pueden cagar en todos lados y de cualquier forma y que siempre te enteras de alguna forma.

Dom, 16 de julio del 2023 (00:00 am)

Ahora soy 2 meses más madura, y analizo la situación y hasta noto como me usaste para sacarle celos a alguien de quien nunca supe el nombre. Porque quien mierda publica una foto en sus historias con alguien que nunca había visto en su vida y lo hace de una forma tan excesivamente cursi. Para que a los 3 días después mandar a la mierda a esta persona. Recuerdo como quería volver a juntarme contigo y me lo negaste inventando una excusa. Porque se notó que fue inventada. Traté de seguir adelante y tener autoestima.

Creía que tu eras lo que buscaba, pero tus problemas con el alcohol y con tus estados de ánimos me recordaban a alguien muy cercano y yo no quería eso. La mayoría de veces que hablábamos por la noche me decías que estabas tomando y te lo decía, te decía que odiaba a la gente que toma mucho, estaba alejandote antes de que me doliera y no lo hiciste. No quería ghostearte porque dios mio soy tan empatica :(

Pero al final tu lo hiciste.

Llevo días escribiendo esta última carta y de verdad espero que sea la última. No se si volverás o no en un futuro. Aunque no lo creo, en mi vida nunca vuelven los chicos. Es desgastante escribirte algo y siempre lo fue, desde el día uno. Como que me pesan en exceso los dedos al escribir cada palabra, me da sueño y hasta un poco de rabia.

Michael, si es que ese era tu nombre. No te deseo el mal, pero lo que me hiciste fue feo, tan feo que me dolió mucho. Porque me ilusionaste, y te pregunte reiteradas veces tus intenciones conmigo y tu respuesta era siempre la misma. Lo de nosotros fue super corto, pero a la vez tan intenso. Nunca había vivido algo así, en parte sanaste mi corazón, hiciste que olvidara al otro chico y que pasara a 2do plano. Lo cual agradezco, pero igual falto un poco, sigo pensando en él de vez en cuando.

No sé qué es de tu vida, sería cool si en un futuro nos viéramos, tomarnos un té y habláramos de esta estupidez que me hiciste.

Yo no soy del todo rencorosa, se perdonar, pero no vuelvo a confiar nunca más de esa forma.

Fue demasiado y yo caí, porque se sintió mágico a pesar del frío que hacía.

Como también, jamas leerás esto a no ser que se hiciera muy famosa y cayera a tus manos. Eres... lamentablemente, el primer chico que me dijo que me quería mucho después de un beso. Contigo sentí un beso, ni mi primer beso fue así de mágico, sentía una conexión preciosa cuando te besaba, me sentía muy en el tercer plano. Veía hasta colores y me sorprendió que fuese de alguien que sólo me uso para beneficio propio.

¿Te imaginas si lo nuestro hubiese funcionado tal y como lo hablábamos?

Estaríamos compartiendo la cama y durmiendo acurrucados o viendo películas mientras te hago mimos en el pelo o que se yo.

Pero no fue y quizás así tenía que ser. Pegaste mi dibujo en tu guitarra, demás que algo sentiste. No mucho, pero algo hubo. Y no te culpo, porque no soy una mala persona, se querer y respetar a las personas que amo. Soy empatica, amo conversar y se respetar los tiempos de alguien a pesar de que me cueste mucho hacerlo, pero lo hago.

Espero que estés mejor, y demás que si. Porque a veces pienso que tu depresión era puro chamullo para que te dejara en paz.

Siempre me quedé con las ganas de hacer lo de las camisas. Andar los dos con camisa roja de la mano por el centro y ser los loquitos del centro e ir a tomarnos un tecito o un cafecito algún lugar o simplemente haber ido alguna tocata de las que ibas con la banda en la que participas. Porque aunque no me creyeras, a mi me gusta la música pesada, sólo no soy del todo fan, pero si me gusta. Sólo que de los nervios se me olvidaban los datos curiosos que tanto me se.

Te deseo lo mejor, ojalá hayas encontrado trabajo, ojalá ya hayan terminado de grabar el álbum, ojalá te estés llevando mejor con tus padres, espero que tus crisis no estén tan fuertes (si es que eran reales), ojalá tu abuelita haya encontrado trabajo, espero que no estés jugando con sentimientos de nadie más, ojalá sigas coleccionando más vinilos y de verdad espero que no le hagas daño a otra chica, nadie merece lo que yo viví. Porque yo me quise hasta morir por tanto dolor que sentía en mi cuerpo. Fue difícil poder seguir mi carrera con tanta pena.

No te quiero, pero tampoco te odio.

Sólo quiero que seas feliz y logres tus objetivos.

Porque sé que en el fondo eres una buena persona, sólo estás dañado y por eso me dañaste hasta mis ganas de querer a alguien más.

Cuídate mucho.

Sigue tocando el bajo y la guitarra lo hacías super bien.

"Con besos con sabor a tecito de canela..."

-Winter🌨

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 7

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

((TW for this part; period typical slurs and internalized homophobia. Read the tags before clicking readmore if you want the details))

Steve has been a porcelain doll for seven weeks when disaster strikes.

"What is that," Jeff says, because even though the words are in an order which would suggest that it's a question, the tone of voice Jeff uses decidedly is not questioning.

"What is whaaa-AH! Nothing! It's nothing!" Eddie, who was torso deep into his closet throwing things around to find his backup amp cord, turns to look at what Jeff was talking about, and is now launching himself across his room to stand between Jeff and Porcelain Steve. Porcelain Steve, who Eddie had lain on his bed, propped slightly on a pillow, headphones carefully perched on his little head, hooked to a cassette player currently playing the first hour of last week's Top 40 countdown that Eddie had taped for him (all three hours of it, leaving out the chatter of the radio show host. He'd had to use two tapes to get it all).

"Nothing sure looks a lot like a doll in headphones, Munson," Jeff has an amazing poker face but Eddie's certain he can see a bit of judgement underneath the carefully blank expression Jeff is wearing.

"I don't know what you're talking abo- hey! Hey, no, no, don't!" Eddie tries to bodily block Jeff when he moves forward and the two end up wrestling, a match that Eddie almost wins, if not for the hazard that is his messy room. He gets Jeff walked almost to the door before he steps wrong on something, ankle rolling and sending him down sideways. He clutches at Jeff but can't make purchase and Jeff, the bastard, does fuck-all to try and catch him. Instead, Jeff leaps out of arm's length, then lunges onto the bed as Eddie collapses to his floor.

Eddie frantically tries to stand and, in his haste, ends up with his feet tangled in a pile of dirty laundry and that sends him crashing down again, this time forward onto his hands and knees, so he gives up on standing and crawls the few short feet to the bed, finally looking up to see that the damage has been done.

Jeff has picked up Steve, holding him inches from his own face, eyes squinted in suspicion. Eddie is frozen, horrified and afraid, and can't bring himself to do anything as Jeff examines Steve closely, turning him around, poking his torso, flipping him upside down to examine his shoes more thoroughly. It's only when Jeff reached for the shirt, pinching the hem of it between two fingers that Eddie kicks back into action.

He lunges up, one knee on the bed, leaning over to grab Steve and yank him from Jeff's grip. His first instinct is to throw Steve over his shoulder, out of sight out of mind mentality, but as soon as he does, he realizes his mistake and twists, lunging to catch Steve in midair. He does manage to catch Steve, but it sends him bouncing off his dresser and almost back to the floor before he manager to regain his balance, where he proceeds to cradle Steve to his chest, which is heaving from the adrenaline, wrestling match, and subsequent dive after Steve.

Jeff is giving him a concerned look but something else piques his interest; Jeff reaches over and picks up the headphones, holding them up to one ear. His face goes through every emotion a human could possibly experience in less than fifteen seconds as he listens to whatever track was at the forty-ish minute mark on the Top 40 countdown.

Slowly, Jeff lowers the headphones, letting them drop to the bed before he gives Eddie a new, more judgmental, yet infinitely more concerned, look. "Eddie. What. The fuck."

Honestly, he's not sure there's anything he can say in response.

"Why- I don't... are you okay, man?" Jeff sounds both scared for Eddie, and scared of him, at the same time.

"I'm fine," Eddie manages to squeak out.

"Eddie," Jeff says seriously, "this is not fine. This is- this is insane behavior. You know that, right?"

"I've no idea what you mean," Eddie doesn't even know what he's defending himself from but his default response to anything is to defend himself. He grips Steve tightly around the torso with one hand and then moves both his hands to be behind his back so Jeff will stop staring at Steve.

"I mean this fuckin' insane shrine you have dedicated to Steve fucking Harrington. How did you even get a doll that looks like him. Did you- did you make that?"

Fuck. Holy fuck. What can he say to defend himself here? Is there a single way for him to come out of this not sounding deranged? If he agrees, let's Jeff's drawn conclusion be the truth, then that's all but confirmation to Steve about his big fat crush, so when Steve's back to being Steve he'll never look at Eddie again. Jeff might think he needs mental help, but he'll be here for Eddie. If he tries to deny the accusation, then he'll need an explanation. He'll have to tell Jeff something that make him seem less like a creepy stalker, but what? He can't tell the truth, not without letting everyone know he's going to tell Jeff. There's a whole other secret he'd have to let out to even have a chance of Jeff believing him.

Jeff must take his silence for acceptance or guilt, because he's speaking again. "I.... man, this is not healthy. Please tell me you aren't, like, hoarding a lock of his hair or his clothes or something."

Involuntarily, damningly, his eyes dart to the closet, where several of Steve's sweaters hang from when he'd borrowed them and never returned them. And it's not like Steve doesn't have several of Eddie's own articles of clothing, like his battle vest and a few shirts. But Jeff doesn't know they easily, willingly, swap clothes, so his eyes go wide and dart towards the closet, as if he can pick out which pieces belong to Steve on sight.

Actually, he probably can.

"This really isn't what it looks like," Eddie says because he has to say something. Being silent is too incriminating.

"I don't think you're aware of what this looks like," Jeff says, wiggling himself off of Eddie's bed to stand at the foot of it. "Of all the boys in Hawkins.... I knew you liked Steve but this is.... creepy. That doll looks so much like him that I recognized it. Does Steve know you're in love with him, or is this like a way to process your crush without having to-"

"Jeff!" Eddie yells, mortified. He can feel his whole face heat up, knows he must be bright red. Because Jeff just said, out loud and for Steve to hear, the thing that Eddie very much hasn't even said out loud to himself, even if he knows how he feels deep down.

Jeff must know he's overstepped some invisible boundary he wasn't even aware of because his face immediately shows regret. He takes a step forward and Eddie takes a step back.

Immediately, Jeff stops his forward momentum. "Shit, I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm sorry."

When Eddie answers, his voice sounds like he's been eating gravel, "Just, can you go wait in the living room? I'll be right out, and we can talk, or whatever, but can you just..."

A nod, and then Jeff is gone, closing the door behind him.

With shaking hands, Eddie brings Steve back to the front of him. Looks down at him. He's not even aware he's crying until he watches his tears mark Steve's tiny polo. He can't keep holding Steve. Can't keep looking at him. Not when- not when his best friend just outed him in the worst way possible. And Eddie can't even be upset or hurt about it because Jeff didn't know. He's teased Eddie about his crushes before, and in the safety of his own room, there was no reason for Jeff to have to watch what he was saying.

Even knowing that Steve is okay with Robin, loves her anyway, without the ability to confirm that Steve doesn't hate him right now, Eddie's going to freak out. But he can't. Jeff is waiting in the living room, and the band is waiting back at Gareth's. This was just- they were supposed to just grab the amp cable and get back, a fifteen-minute job at most, and now.

Now Eddie is staring down at Steve, willing himself to not have a panic attack.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have heard it like that, it s-should have come from me. It should- you-I'm sorry," Eddie gently underhand throws Steve onto the center of the bed. He lands face up and Eddie sinks to the floor because he can't stand anymore, and he can't really breath.

Steve knows Eddie's a fucking faggot now, and that he wants Steve, and there's no way he'll get to keep the friendship they had before this. There's no universe in which Steve isn't creeped out by this information. There has never been an instance where a straight boy found out about his crush on them and didn't abandon him. Not always cruelly, he'll admit. He's had friends that learned and just... slid from his life with no words and no fuss. Eddie just never spoke to them again because they never came back around, but they also never outed him.

That's what will happen with him and Steve. He'll quit inviting Eddie around, or calling when he's bored, and eventually it will get to the point that Eddie only sees him at BBQ's that Joyce drags him to.

Fuck. FUCK!

He's not sure how long he's on the floor but eventually, he finds the will to get back up and resume digging through his closet to find the amp cord. It doesn't take long, he was ridiculously close to finding it earlier, it seems.

Before leaving his room, he picks back up the cassette player and headphones. Silence comes from them, so he pops the tape out before flipping it to the B side and popping it back in. He puts the headphones around Steve's head again and presses play, doing his best to not actually look at Steve. He'll just have another breakdown if he does.

He trudges out of his room, closing the door behind himself before taking the short walk to the living room, where Jeff waiting on the couch, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his chin, eyes faraway as he stares towards the wall in front of him.

"Hey," Eddie says, to get his attention.

"Hey," Jeff says, sitting up straight and turning towards Eddie. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the fucking psycho here," he sighs, leaning sideways against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest, hand clutching at the amp cord just for something to ground him.

"Forget that, whatever I did, or said, or whatever, you were- when you yelled my name. You looked terrified. Of me," Jeff almost whispers the last sentence, and if not for the stark silence in the trailer, Eddie wouldn't have heard.

"Not of you, Jeff," Eddie whispers back, but his voice doesn't stay quiet because 'quiet' isn't a thing Eddie does easily or often. "Of... of myself, and these- of how I feel- I'm a goddamned faggot and now that Ste- when Steve finds out I'll lose him! Like I've lost every fucking person who ever even suspected I was a fuckin' queer!"

Silence stretches between them, enough to make Eddie fidget, dropping his crossed arms to twist the amp cord about anxiously with both his hands.

"Look, man, I don't know what's, like, the appropriate thing to say so I'm just going for the honest thing. You got me. You'll never lose me. And all those other assholes that you think you lost? You're wrong. They lost you. And if Steve Harrington is gonna be another one of those, then you aren't losing him. 'Cause he was never really in your corner to begin with."

If this were anyone else, with the exception of his uncle, he would be able to hold it together better. But it's Jeff. His best friend. Who never believed Eddie committed unspeakable horrors over Spring Break last year. Who didn't question the strange, new friends he suddenly had afterwards; who accepted as the only explanation a softly spoken 'they saved me' and that was enough. Who had said 'ok, cool' in response to Eddie telling him he was gay, years ago now, and continued trying to find out if Eddie had a secret relationship, switching girlfriend for boyfriend like it wasn't a big deal (Eddie did not have a secret relationship; his good mood that week was the result of snooping for his birthday present and finding the guitar hidden under his uncle bed).

It's Jeff. So, Eddie does the most metal, manly thing he can and bursts into tears, blindly reaching for Jeff and pulling him off the couch so he can bear hug him and sob into his shirt.

"There, there, you big baby," Jeff rubs his back soothingly, "let it out. Then pull your sorry ass together, because Gareth and Brian are going to think we died in a car crash on the way here if we take much longer."

"Ah, fuck," Eddie manager to say around the sniffling he's trying to get control of, "you're right."

"You good, though?"

"Uh, I will be."

Jeff nods and steps back. "How about this. We go to practice, and then you can come to my place tonight and we can like, hangout and talk. If that's what you want."

He's already nodding as he says, "yeah. That would be good. I- uh, I have something to do after practice, but yeah, after that I'll come over."

Eddie tosses the amp cable to Jeff after they climb into the van and head off.

Halfway there, Jeff says, "you know Gareth and Brian are in your corner, too. If you ever feel like telling them one day."

"One day," Eddie agrees, "but today has already been... a lot."

Practice goes well, with some ribbing for their tardiness allowed. If Gareth and Brian notice Eddie's been crying recently, they keep it to themselves. Which is good, because Eddie cannot handle one more thing today.

A promise to meet up with Jeff later and Eddie's back home.

Back to where he left Steve, who will be laying in silence on his bed because it's been well over two hours since he and Jeff left, and the tape only held an hours' worth of music on each side. Back to the nightmare of not knowing if Steve hates him now, or if Eddie's, and this is the most likely scenario, being a bit overdramatic.

His uncle is home, so he greets him, asks after his day, gets told dinner is Fend For Yourself Night (which just means leftovers or a TV dinner), and gets asked about Steve. Because of course he does.

"You sure he went on a vacation willingly with those parents of his, and he ain't actually kidnapped and trapped somewhere?"

That's a little bit too true. If only Wayne knew. "Well, no. I'm not sure. All I know is what he said when he left."

Wayne gives him a look. One Eddie is used to seeing, that says 'I know more than you think but I'm waiting for you to tell me' and Eddie's a little afraid of what Wayne thinks he knows. So, instead of prying that box open, Eddie just says he's tired and goes to his room.

Steve is exactly where Eddie left him.

Suddenly, without reason or logic, Eddie is angry. He's so pissed at Steve for being gone for this long. For having transformed in the first place. For not being able to assure him they'll still be friends, regardless of Eddie's stupid crush.

He snatches Steve off the bed, hand clamping around one of Steve's arms and his torso so he can hold him up with one hand. Steve's face, permanently stuck into a blank expression, looks back. Even knowing that Steve sees and hears through this thing, Eddie's so angry at the doll. If Steve hadn't been turned into this stupid thing, if Eddie wasn't so helplessly in love with him, this wouldn't have happened. Eddie could have taken his own time telling Steve, instead of hearing his deepest secret spilled easily from Jeff's lips. Instead of this not knowing what Steve is thinking, or how he feels. Is he recoiling in disgust at the fact Eddie's making him look at his face? Or is Eddie being awarded the same kindness as Robin, a quiet acceptance that won't change their friendship?

Eddie doesn't know that answer and he hates it.

He's so angry with himself because he should know better. He's forcing his own insecurities onto Steve, about acceptance and caring, when nothing Steve's done since they've become friends is prove that he'll always be Eddie's friend and not even the apocalypse could change that.

"I'm going to hang out with Jeff, so you're gonna be alone a bit longer. Or maybe I should drop you off at Robin's when I go," Eddie goes to toss Steve back on the bed when something pinches his palm. It's a startling sharp pain, quick to fade, but it's surprising enough for Eddie to let go.

Eddie watches, horrified, as he falls to the floor. He twists in the air, landing with a dull thump and cracking sound on his left arm before falling onto his back.

"Shit. Shit! Fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," Eddie is crouched, already in the process of reaching for Steve when he freezes.

There is a crack on Steve's left arm, a line that starts above his elbow on the inside of his arm and runs down and across his arm to his hand, where Steve's pinky finger is gone. Looking slightly to the side, Eddie can see the small porcelain piece that Steve is missing laying on the ground next to him. Eddie's own hand is hovering in the air above Steve, shaking.

This can't be- how did- Eddie wracks his brain. Was the crack there already? Did Eddie cause the crack when he bounced off his dresser earlier? When did it happen? Does that fucking matter when it's Eddie who broke a piece off him? If Steve didn't hate him before, he's got to now. Eddie doesn't have time to panic about this, he's got to- El. El can talk to Steve. Find out if he's okay. What if breaking him-

Eddie launches himself up and to his dresser, grabbing at the Walkie up there. He pulls the antenna up, clicks it on and tries not to actually shout as he says, "Code Red! Code fucking Red!" He lets off the talk button, counts to seven in his head, enough time, he reasons, for someone to respond before he repeats the process. "Code Red!! Code Red!"

He repeats this process for three minutes with no response. Where the fuck is everyone!? How is he supposed to- Oh! The phone!

He tears down the hall and to the phone. He must look a right state, because Wayne looks very concerned and is halfway to standing up when Eddie gets to the phone beside him. He yanks the phone up and dials the number for the Byers-Hopper household, holding up a shaking finger to Wayne, a silent plea to give him a moment.

It rings and rings and rings before the answering machine kicks in. Eddie presses down on the disconnect button before dialing the Wheelers' number next.

"Hello?"

"Mike! Code Red! Where the fuck is everyone and why aren't they answering!?"

"What?"

"Code Red! Where's Nancy. Put Nancy on."

"Dude, slow down, what's-"

"I broke St-it. I broke it and someone needs to get El here now. Code Red does not mean ask questions, Mike! It means Code. Fucking. Red."

"Shit, shit, right! I'll get Nancy and we'll get everyone- just- we'll be there soon."

Eddie slams the phone down and has to meet his uncle's eye now.

"Eddie. What is goin' on?"

Eddie inhales a breath and can feel his lower lip quivering. "It's- can we talk about it later? I promise I'm not the one hurt, or in trouble, or- it's not me, ok. I just-"

"Yer shakin' like a leaf boy. What's got you so spooked?"

Eddie just shakes his head and flees back to his room, slamming the door shut between him and his uncle. He can't bring himself to cross the room to Steve. He slides himself down the door to sit on the floor, pulling his knees up to hug.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I'm sorry."

[pachirobi]

Grown ass 20 year old woman btw

[hgejfmw-hgejhsf]

bad metaphors about maps

______________________________________________________________

A <agcd@eclare45.com> - 9/25/20 3:21 AM

to Henry

h,

i have had whiskey. bear with me.

there's this thing you do. this thing. it drives me crazy. i think about it all the time.

there's a corner of your mouth, and a place that it goes. pinched and worried like you're afraid you're forgetting something. i used to hate it. used to think it was your little tic of disapproval.

but i've kissed your mouth, that corner, that place it goes, so many times now. i've memorized it. topography on the map of you, a world i'm still charting. i know it. i added it to the key. here: inches to miles. i can multiply it out, read your latitude and longitude. recite your coordinates like la rosaria.

this thing, your mouth, its place. it's what you do when you're trying not to give yourself away. not in the way that you do all the time, those empty, greedy grabs for you. i mean the truth of you. the weird, perfect shape of your heart. the one on the outside of your chest.

on the map of you, my fingers can always find the green hills, wales. cool waters and a shore of white chalk. the ancient part of you carved out of stone in a prayerful circle, sacrosanct. your spine's a ridge i'd die climbing.

if i could spread it out on my desk, i'd find the corner of your mouth where it pinches with my fingers, and i'd smooth it away and you'd be marked with the names of saints like all the old maps. i get the nomenclature now - saints' names belong to miracles.

give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart. there's so much of you.

fucking yrs,

a

p.s. wilfred owen to siegfried sassoon - 1917:

And you have fixed my Life - however short. You did not light me: I was always a mad comet; but you have fixed me. I spun round you a satellite for a month, but shall swing out soon, a dark star in the orbit where you will blaze.

[moomoofoo]

kamihama magia union

[kingofsalmonids]

EVERYONE IS REQUIRED TO PAY ATTENTION TO ME TODAY

MORE ATTENTION THAN USUAL

IT’S MY BIRTHDAY

AS SUCH, I’M LETTING MY BROTHER CHAPERONE THIS BIG RUN.

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR COOPERATION.

[faerie-of-faerun]

Very excited to find out what this means!! 👀✨️

[plumdrops]

Credits and Info

Original: Leah Lillith Rhea TS4 Hair

Toddler - Elder Females Only

Textures by Plumblobs

Polycount: Adult: 26k | Child and Toddler: 22k 

Leah Lillith Rhea

Adult:  SFS | Google Drive

Child: SFS | Google Drive

Toddler: SFS | Google Drive

Happy new year everyone!  🥳🎉🎆🎇

[mitamicah]

Happy bithday to this chill cat :3

[rsxavior]

Just a thought, but elves that die are eventually reborn again in a new body. Imagine Astarion living past an elven Tav to watch them die. Then years, centuries later running across a new elf who still recalls bits and pieces of their old life including Astarion.

[allmyandroids]

my daily sunshine and serotonin boost ☺️

[suntails]

im feeling a little better today so i scribbled myself if i were in twst

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

In all honesty... when was the last time Charles arrived for quali day in his own merch and not ferrari's? 👀👀

[todayisafridaynight]

over the limit

[jorvikzelda]

i think that linda and anne can be a little gay for each other sometimes actually . ! as a treat .

[furby-organist]

> "Citing bible verses without writing out the verse should be punishable by death! Why do the Hellever 21 bags say '2 Kings 2:23-24' on them? Is this a shopping bag or an academic thesis? Why is there a citation? Am I expected to know these verses by heart? Should I pull out a bible and look it up, right here in front of the cashier? Die!"